Time To Say Goodbye
by MusicOverMatter
Summary: What happens when a soul loses it's light? When it wanders in darkness, haunted by shadows of the past? Will it find new light? What happens... When it's time to say goodbye? Sequel to the 1990 version of The Phantom of the Opera. Based on the song by Sarah Brightman of the same name. New Summery. The story is better than it sounds, for my gifts lie not in summerising. :)
1. Chapter 1

Greetings!  
Though this used to be just a side fanfic, it's now taken my full attention as an author. So don't worry about a lax of dedication on my end. :) I'm going to address a very serious issue. The 1990 version of Phantom of the Opera's ending!  
He (Charles Dance) is the best phantom hands-down. Give him Ramin Karimloo's singing voice and it's all over. All comparison fades and Charles Dance outshines as the victorious winner! YAY!  
**Ahem,** Well anyway, watch it on YouTube, and you will see what I mean. Best plot, best Phantom, best dynamic between characters, best backstory for all characters, and best phantom ever. Let yourself melt like putty in the hands of that wonderful masterpiece. It's all you can do.

No really, go watch it. You will understand things better, especially this first chapter. Trust me, you won't regret! I'll wait.

Hmm... Oh, you watched it? Good. Now! Everyone I've ever talked to seems to agree that The Phantom MAY have been able to fake his death... With that thought in mind... I give you...

Time To Say Goodbye

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN PHANTOM. However, the OC's and plot are mine. Please don't use them without permission.

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Chapter 1

I looked left, police with guns.  
I looked right, more men trying to kill me. What was there left to do? I'd given up on my angel, since clearly she longed for someone else, though I would still hate that lecherous vicomte till' my dying day. "Which may not be too far away."  
I thought grimly to myself.

If the fates hated anyone, surely they despised me! I lost my wondrous mother, my opera was ripped from my still living fingers, and I was shunned by my dear Christine, the only other woman I had ever loved -or ever would. How could I be further cursed?

"Well, at least in death I will not be hated. For by then all will have forgotten, and how can you hate something you can't remember?"

I looked down to my concerned father. Truly he had been there for me in every dip and rise, and now here he was to see me off in death. The screams for my demise grew louder, and finally I though this was it. But then, as all hope slipped into the dark abyss of despair, out of his pocket, Monsieur Carrier pulled out a small pistol.

To the untrained eye it was just a normal pistol. Standard issue, rotating barrel and eight-bullet capacity. But to my eyes I knew it wasn't an ordinary gun...

^*Flashback*^  
"Blast it all!" Erik yelled at the top of his lungs. "I can't concentrate with that banshee wailing like a neutered cat! Carrier! I though I told you that Miss Delilah would NOT be coming back for a second season with us."  
He glared at the man standing next to him in the private study of the phantom. The older man look apologetic, clearly he too wished to put said cat out of misery too.

"Well I can't help it, Erik. She's not the best but she's the only one who can do the trouser roles. The others keep fighting over the main roles, because playing a male just isn't going to satisfy a diva for long. I hope you realize that."  
Erik looked put out. "I guess you're right, but it won't make it any less painful."

He chuckled darkly as his chin came to rest on his chest. "But I know what might..."  
With that he pulled out a gun, and with no further word, The Phantom of the Opera pulled the trigger with the barrel at his head.

"BOOM!" the gun smoked as the gunpowder that had ignited burned off it's contents. Wine-coloured liquid poured from a dark shape at the side of Erik's head as he slumped over on his mahogany desk.

"Erik!" Carrier rushed over to the side of his dead son.  
"Oh God what have you done?!"  
The man wept over the corpse of Erik, as the corpse began to laugh.  
To say he was shocked beyond all recognition was a gross understatement. He could say and do nothing as the 'dead' Erik began howling with laughter.

"Ha! That was a good one! I should try that more often, scaring people out of their wits really takes stress off those nerves." He let an evil grin slide across his features, relishing in the satisfaction of his little prank.  
"Erik?! But- but how? I- I thought..."

"What you thought -old man- was that I'd killed myself. Not likely however because I'd never even consider killing myself over some silly harpy like Miss Delilah. But there may come a day when killing myself MAY be necessary."  
Erik stared pointedly at Monsieur Carrier as the poor gentleman started to sink to the floor from shock.

Erik rushed forward and caught him before he hit the ground. "Confound-it! Will you stop with that?"  
He paused in his efforts to stare once more, "I'm not really dead, though popular opinion either says I am, or wishes I was."  
He began to help Monsieur Carrier to a soft chair before a moderate fireplace. "But, Erik. I must know tell me how DID you do it? I know you are capable, Erik. I've seen you do great things but I still don't understand how you managed with this."

The Phantom leaned back on his own chair, balancing it on two legs, crossing his arms across his chest. "Well it's simple really. I'd known of fake guns for a while and decided to make my own. However, the greatest flaw was that in a real situation..."  
His arms spread out in a flourished manner, "... No one would believe it!"  
He placed his hands behind his head and let his words hang in the air before continuing.

"You see, it's well enough for theatre - though mark my words it will never take off in opera - but sound, smoke and acting wouldn't be good enough if you were really trying to pass yourself off as dead. However, what I showed you was a gun that would add the one thing that really marks a true weapon. Blood." He smirked as he waited for the older man to process what he had heard. "But the best part is that each blood capsule looks like an ordinary bullet! Round and dark. Though the one draw back is that it IS a projectile being fired from a gun, it can leave a pretty nasty bruise. But I have made it so I may adjust the distance so it will break on impact, without truly harming myself."

"So what do you think?" Monsieur Carrier said it was a remarkable invention, and upon hearing it Erik gave it to him, showed him the adjustments, gave him a small pouch of 'ammo', and placed all in a long wood box.

^*End Flashback*^

My father looked to me, silently asking me if I truly wished for this route. If all went well, they would all believe in my death, and I could get out of this alive, at the cost of my residence at the opera populair. What choice did I have? I would not become a science experiment or a living freak of nature. "Not one for THEIR entertainment anyway."  
My last thought as I surrendered to the decision to 'die'. My only home or not, nothing was left to tie me here. I shrugged, he got the message, and from there it was clockwork.

I wasn't The Phantom of the Opera for nothing. Falling from that hight was literal child's play. As a boy I still acted like one, though mine was a boyhood set apart. I taught myself to be agile and flexible as a cat, leaping from roofs, sprinting across rafters, slinking through hidden passages. And most importantly learning how to fall. No matter what the landing was to look like. In fact this very spot was one I had lept from often, so landing would be no issue. I felt the bullet hit me as I started to free-fall.

They may have been free by the world's standards, those rich dandies who came with a different lady each time only to show off his own wealth. But I was a bird, and I could fly. Wind ripping at my hair, body cutting through the air. Eternity in a moment. I may have been a mortal monster who was alone, hated, and feared, but I would feel things and think things that would put even great Da Vinci to shame.

All too soon the roof came to meet me. And true to my fashion I allowed the hit to envelope my body, but as it was about to close itself wholly around me, I sent it back into the roof. A trick which I learned in my time here that had proved useful. My mask was battered, for the injury had been spared on my internal organs, not my physical facade. A splay of bruises covered me where there had been the most impact. But really I was no worse for wear, considering that I was just going to lay down and die prior to the evenings events. My father rushed to my side and took me in his arms, crying over my "dying" body. I felt his warm tears running down my own skin, and for a moment I was totally convinced we had pulled it off without a hitch.

But fate is a cruel mistress, and all must be subject to her vicious schemes. Just as I thought it was finally over, my angel, yet my tormenting spirit, came to me. To me! And as she reached for my mask I feel the sheer terror well up inside me, the will it took to not stop her weakening me greatly, fear gripping my heart like an icy fist. "What more can she take?" I thought. "She has ripped my heart in two, and sewn it back only to pierce it with the bitter knife of betrayal. She eased my mind and soothed my loneliness, then turned to run from and mock my pain. Then as I lay dying she sparked my hope by singing me as her saviour, her love. Did she think me deaf? I knew her words, and surely she knew mine. I cannot imagine what is left for me to give, unless she wants to stuff and hang my corpse."

I was bitter, none could deny if they had known my thoughts. But what is bitterness but a poison root that inhabits the earth? I was pathetic, no better than the common mongrel wasting away in the gutter from wasting his time in the bottle. Yet no liquor was mine, no addiction. None but the drunkenness of heart, with an obsession I myself could neither understand nor harness. The obsession to try obtaining that which was not meant for demons: everything I had previously striven for.

But instead of mocking me, hurting me, or fearing me... She kissed me. Simply, lovingly, on my forehead. And suddenly I didn't understand. My world was upside  
Down. What had just happened? Could she have changed her mind, and now wished to be with me? But as the thought passed through my conscious I knew it had gone too far. So I allowed myself to sink into darkness, escaping the living torment that ripped through every ounce of my being from her presence.

Yet I still loved her, and as black caressed my bleeding mind, I whispered the epitome of my love to the stilled night; "Christine..."

The last of my senses faded out, but not before they heard one last thing, crying. The mourning song of grief and distress. "Thank you, my lovely Christine." I thought. "Your tears are your greatest gift to me."  
And then like a greedy beast, the dark creature stalking, preying upon my mind and body sank it's fangs into me, and I lost the light.

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Well... Anyone like it? I intend to update fairly often, and I've got a few friends telling me what they think. But I would like to know if anyone is interested. So... Review, please. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much for the reviews! They do mean a lot, and I'm pleased with the positive reponse. Just so you know though, I probably will not be updating THIS often. I've got some of this pre-written, so that's why I updated tonight. :) As to newbornphanatic's question. I'll just say this; NO Christine's will get any love here. I vary from version to version as to who she should have chose, but THIS version in particular, though she was better than most I am NOT bringing her back when my- I mean this Erik... deserves so much more. **Sigh** Erik...

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN PHANTOM. However I do own the characters and plot.

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Chapter 2

When I finally came to, I was in the hold of a ship. To where I was headed, why I was here, and under what circumstances, I was unsure. All I knew was that I was alive, and I never wished to see Paris again. In fact, if I never saw FRANCE again I'd be all the better.

But now the question was, what to do now? I had the necessary abilities to survive any attempts on my life, and I was sure if I was captured, once we reached the port escape would be simple enough. But was escaping the best option? After all I was unsure of my current state in the full, and for all I knew Carrier could be in this very vessel. At that point, any unnecessary action could draw unwanted attention on my part. So I decided to scout the ship and see what I could find.

With that resolve in hand, I attempted to rise from my resting place only to find myself tied down. From what I could tell I was on a simple trundle bed, and the ropes restraining me went under and around me and the bed, effectively binding me to it. For now.

I glanced around: the room was done in many hues of scarlet, purple, orange, green, and yellow. Woven scarves hung on the walls and ceiling, and pillows of similar design were heaped in the corners. Crystal and metal hangings - moons, suns, stars and symbols of the like - were in various positions around the vicinity. "Carrier! If you've sold me to gypsies I'll have your head!" I thought violently. Really if he'd sold me to anyone I'd be royally ticked off, but gypsies had a special place of distaste in my heart. After all, from what I'd gathered on my own after years of personal investigation (and forced confessions), my mother had been given an abortion potion by a gypsy shortly before my birth. From what I could tell, that potion had been the very thing to destroy my face. So who could blame me for disliking them? They were the reason my life was a living hell!

As these toxic thoughts rolled around in my head, suddenly the door flew open, and a persian man walked in to discover me, surprised to see me conscious. "Oh, I didn't expect you to be awake so soon. Well I guess I should have expected as much from 'The Phantom of the Opera'." As he started to walk towards me, I struggled to free myself from my bonds - as I had already loosened them to a great degree -, constricting and pushing against their rough hold.

"Peace! Peace! Calm yourself, friend. I am not here to harm you." The man slowed his steps, raising his empty hands to where I could see them. His voice dropped low and spoke with a reasoning manner; "Your Father was the one who entrusted you to my care, and the one who instructed me to bind you thus. - I see now why it was necessary - But that, of course, means nothing coming from me...he told me as much. Instead he requested I give you -this- when you had awakened."

He pulled a cream envelope from a fold in his coat, which when he had finished speaking, he presented it to me. By this time the dark man had speeded along my escape considerably by slashing the ropes during his little speech. After leaping up from the bed I considered murdering him for a moment. It would be too easy to do. Perhaps I could have drawn the sword at his side and stabbed him with it. Maybe I could have impaled him with the hanging ornaments that were immediately within my reach from anywhere in the room. If I'd wanted to, suffocating him with the ropes or just snapping his neck with my bare hands would have sufficed. But I considered the object in his hand.

I eyed it curiously. Could it be a trap? Would it be filled with poison, which I would inhale upon opening the letter? Could it be a notice stating the event of my father's demise? Or maybe it was a warrant for my arrest, whereupon I would be sent to some zoo, advertised as the beast of the century! Well, dwelling on such did me nothing, so without a second thought I received the envelope and removed it's contents, hoping for the best. (Though why I would deserve that heaven knows why.)

It read as follows:

Dear Son,

I'm so sorry I could not be there with you now, but if I'd gone with you it would only have served to put both of us in considerable danger. I know that up until now I've been there with you through it all; everything that made me great, was you. But now I realize that it's time you go on your own. Though it was you who made every decision, who shaped and molded from the ashes of one man's mistakes the glory of YOUR success, I still was the one to house you, care for you, guide you and protect you. I held you back Erik, I should have seen it sooner, that I only served in taking every good thing that should have been yours from you. But not anymore. Erik, I still love you as the son you are, but I fear that I will never see you again. You must truly carve you own destiny now, and after seeing what you can do with a total failure of a man and the basement of an opera house, I know you will go on to great things. The man who gave this letter to you is The Dardoga. He is an old friend of mine who is a brilliant and prospering merchant. I believe you will be in good company with him and that he will do a decent job of keeping you out of trouble in my absence (mostly). He is taking you with him and I expect you to listen to his instructions. Don't worry. I trust him with my life and so I trust him with yours. Yes, I did ask him to tie you down while you slept, and not only did I reveal your identity, but I told him what he did not know of your life's story. Farewell, My Son. May you find the life you truly deserve.

Always, Your Loving Father,

Gerrard Carrier

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Review? It keeps angry plot bunnies from devouring my soul. Last time I checked, authors with devoured souls can't continue stories. :) Do Good, Keep The Story Going.


	3. Chapter 3

Wow, sorry I had intended to update this sooner but every time I came on o got distracted by some other wonderful FICA by other authors. You would think my own work would take priority? Well no, but I wish it would more. :) So without further delay, here is chapter 3!

P.S. I never mentioned it but the title is a prelude to the fact that in a sense this is a songfic based on the Italian song. I say 'in a sense' because it's inspired, not dictated by. So enough babbling, move past the disclaim and start reading!

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN 'THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA'.

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Chapter 3

My heart seemed to stop. I didn't really see until that moment, just how much I had come to depend on him. I had suspected for some time prior to that recent incident that Gerrard was my father. I mean, it only made perfect sense. There were obvious traits I inherited from him and not my mother, then there was his constant presence in my life from before my first memories as a child were even formed, and let's not forget that his very treatment of me was always undertoned by fatherly behavior that was blatantly obvious. He really was not talented in lying or hiding things. (DEFINITELY not in hiding things...)

But at that moment I realized how much he truly meant to me. Whether I'd called him "father" or not, that's what he'd really been to me. And now, even though it was me who HAD made the calls, who had been more of a superior than a son, even having him there to hear my thought and plans was a creature comfort I had adapted as part of my life. And now it, like the rest of my carefully-crafted existence, was gone.

Now before we go on, I will make one thing perfectly clear: I AM A MAN, AND MEN DON'T "FAINT" OR "SWOON".

That being said, as the these revelations began hitting me one after the other like bullets to the chest and head, I began to feel a bit dizzy. The sound of blood pumping through my head was the only thing I was aware of. Then I felt my body collapse at the knees. Thankfully the bed was right behind me, which resulted in me sitting on it, rather than being sprawled out on the floor.

The Persian - or should I say The Dardoga? - looked sympathetic, which angered me greatly. I didn't want anyone's pity, and I certainly didn't NEED his. "Erik..." His eyes seem to bleed with sadness, "I'm sorry. Truly I am. But your father believes this to be the best course. Now I know you don't really trust me, I wouldn't expect you too. After all, you have never trusted anyone - you've never needed to - you're whole life-"

Before he could continue I snarled and jumped up from the bed. How dare he insinuate such things! And how DARE he try to coddle ME! I hissed through clenched teeth; "You forget, Persian-". He raised his hand to stop me, "It's Nadir.". I felt a heat rising up the back of my neck, this impudent fool was making me madder by the moment! I straightened up, my shoulders tensed, and my mouth became a grim line. Coldly I began to speak; "Nadir then- you forget WHO I AM. I am the one who murdered a hundred men, I am the one who dealt with anyone to cross me and my orders... harshly, I poisoned Prima Donnas, strangled Primo Unos, I held an entire world in my icy grip of absolute fear. And you DARE... Question my actions?"

Nadir (as he requested to be referred to as) slowly changed as my little speech went on. At first he seemed unaffected by what I was saying, but as I slowed my words to a dangerous level, he looked like an animal being stalked. And as my voice became more sharp and chilling, it seemed to freeze his blood in his veins. If he could, he would have been whiter than an October snow. He appear unable to respond, so I did it for him.

A sly and dangerous smile crept up my face (even the part that couldn't be seen) and with a deathly calm I spoke. "While you may assume that I've never trusted anyone, I find that very far for the actual case. I've trusted people to do EXACTLY as I expect them to. For instance, if a chandelier falls from the ceiling or if a corpse suddenly turns up for no particular reason, I expect people to go into complete and utter panic, to revert back in mind to the primitive animals they are. If I crack the whip in one direction, they will go the other. When fear is the driving factor, obedience is absolute. Obedience to the laws of nature, which I have made my own. So you see..." I leaned forward, towering just slightly over him. "I will ALWAYS win. Because my law, is the FINAL law."

He seemed catatonic, but I knew what he was thinking. He was probably thinking; "Gerrard, what HAVE you gotten me into?" I couldn't help but let forth a short, sharp laugh at that thought. No, This man had NO idea what he had gotten himself into. But I was about to teach him.

With a visible effort, Nadir bowed and added; "Well... I'm sorry to have offered you. I hope that I will not do anything to provoke such an emotion again." He turned and made his way to the door, "If you need anything, just ring that bell. It goes to the kitchen and someone will attend you shortly. When they are ready, your own living quarters will be ready and you may move into them." As he began to close the door, he seemed to remember something. "Oh, one more thing. If you will, I would request you not to leave this room yet. I have not formally introduced you to the crew, and until I do, I feel it would be best for all parties involved if you remained in here." He bowed once more, "Good Night" And with that he was gone.

I fell backwards onto the bed. Though I tried not to let it show, what had just happened had completely shocked me and thrown me off guard. I was a man, and men don't faint or swoon. Neither do they cry. But in that moment, pain swelled in my throat and eyes, and I felt moisture under my mask. With nothing left I drifted off into a restless sleep, plagued by shadows, a haunting melody I couldn't remember, and a divine yet dark voice I couldn't name.

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Review, and I will spend more time on the story = you getting more chapters!


	4. Chapter 4

To newbornphanatic: Yes, Erik's gentlemanly attitude was one of the reasons I totally fell in love with this version of phantom. But in the end he IS still the one who "killed a hundred men". Remember both times he kidnapped Christine? And the freak outs in the lair? I think he really is sweet, but under stress (his father basically telling him that he will never see him again, and that he's dumped with some stranger he doesn't know) he won't take anything lying down. The Dardoga won't die this time around, but I'd try very hard not to make Erik mad if I were him in the future...

Thank you everyone who has followed, favourite'd, and reviewed my story! The plot bunnies are appeased for now, but they crave feedback from their patrons. Do remember to review!

P.S. Just so you all know, the following character is NOT Erik.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN 'THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA'!

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Chapter 4

"Hey!"  
I turned to the rough voice, apparently I hadn't been silent enough in my current endeavors. "Get back here with that!" The man speaking (Okay, no he was yelling.) raise his rifle to eye level. He pulled the trigger and just in the nick of time I leaned back, narrowly missing the blow that would have at least taken off my nose. A mistake like that would have been great on their half indeed.

My emerald-green eyes narrowed, and with speed that allowed no room for error I extracted a knife from one of the sheaths at my side and expertly threw it, landing a 'clean' blow to the head of the offending body. "Perfect..." I whispered. It's not every time that the throw kills on first impact. When that happens it usually leaves the subject in great agony, and then I need to go in and 'finish the job'. But a 'true hit' will have it all over and done with in the blink of an eye. Less work for me, less 'work' for them.

After scaling the walls, and descending down the other side, I ran to one of the many covered wagons waiting just beyond where I was. The people living in and amongst them said and did nothing. Not a glance was paid nor an eyelash batted. Everything went on as if I was merely a breeze passing through the camp. For a moment, all was calm. Then the gates of the adjourning estate were thrown open, and it's guards came rushing out. Their leader turned, and saw the gypsy camp (because that's what it was.) situated quite near where the thief had supposedly jumped down.

"You there!" The slip of a man strode purposefully towards the temporary settlement, and the big, burly man walking along the outskirts of it. The large man turned to the concentrated terrier-type person, "Yes, my friend! Is there anything I can help you with?" He flashed a silver-studded smile to the furious Captain of the Guard. "Yes, there is! Has a man, ruffly 5 feet tall, come this way? And if he has, where is he? Don't lie, or you will be severely punished!"

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, as I gazed with intense hatred at the skinny little napoleon wanna-be. Anyway, I wasn't 5 ft., I was 5'5! "Well, I guess I will have to set him straight..." I thought to myself, "But not yet." The leader had ordered his men to search the camp. But that basically meant to rip it apart at the seams.

Women and children were thrown from wagons, men were corralled and interrogated, and all were under suspicion for the crimes committed. I jumped into one of the wagons: inside it was covered in herbs hanging from the ceiling and scattered on the floor. Glass bottles of many bold and different colors glinted from their various steads, while in the corner, an old spinning wheel stood. Looking for all the world as if it were ready to 'give up the ghost'.

I crept up to the spinning wheel, and under the precarious contraption, hidden by the rag-rug it stood upon, were 4 loose floor slats. I removed my floor-length, sleeveless black leather jacket, the hood tucked neatly in with the metal mask I'd worn that covered my face from my mouth to my nose. Next I removed my knife belt, which held my throwing knives, two forearm-long hunting knives, and my father's saber. Finally, the black leather gloves and boots, plus the black cotton peasant shirt and breeches were removed from my body and placed on top of everything else inside the hidden compartment. When I'd replaced the wheel and re-dressed in clothes that blended in with the people living here, I calmly walked out of the wagon.

No one acknowledged my sudden appearance, no one even showed a sign that they knew I existed. I just strode towards my goal: the limp leader who was even now yelling at the man with the silver smile. "SURRENDER THE MAN IN BLACK RIGHT NOW! Or so help me I will order the whole lot of you to be thrown into some dank dungeon to ROT!" The Illustrious Captain of the Guard now stood with a red face, veins popping out of his neck. I took a breath, if he recognized me, it was all over.

Stealing is bad. Stealing from an Italian Diplomat's home in Vienna? Worse. Stealing that Diplomat's signet ring, which is basically his key to the kingdom? Most people would sooner place a death-note on their own family, because that's basically what you are doing. Well thankfully for me, I didn't have to worry about that...

"Excuse me, Sir?" I called to the red-faced leader, "A man in black you say?" He scowled at me and yelled; "Well of course you idiot! Are you deaf? I have half a mind to box your useless ears!" I bit back an indignant growl, if it weren't for my current predicament, I would have ripped his throat out for talking to me like that. It would have been easy too, but I had bigger fish to fry. Like the band of soldiers circling the camp, waiting to scorch my hide.

"Yes sir, well if it is a man in black you seek, I would suggest turning around." He became puzzled at my statement, and just as he turned to face the direction I'd pointed - the south gate - a rider cloaked in a black coat came galloping out of it at full speed. "Argh! He must have circled around and stole a horse! Quickly men! What are you standing about for? Get your lazy butts moving or I'll flay them off!" The faces of the guards became white as sheets, apparently the little man wasn't kidding around with his threat.

As the company raced out after the black rider, I finally let out a breath, along with a hearty laugh! Suddenly the whole camp joined me in my jubilee, as the very sky itself seemed to quake with our laughter. "Ha! Hey Black Blood? When do ya think they'll realise they're just chasing a man of their own?" The sliver toothed man called over to me. I took a moment to think before saying; "When the gag finally comes loose from his mouth." Once more everyone was laughing at their fine joke: A priceless ring, a baffled diplomat, a fooled company of guards chasing a decoy thief, and the punch-line? The thief himself.

"Hey Rhiannon! Get moving! They're gonna be back and when they are, they won't be happy. Give the prize to Jacob and help us with the herd. If anything gets left behind, it won't be them." Or should I say 'herself'. I smiled to myself, and ran to help the others with our pride and joy, our horses.

Oh, by the way. I am Rhiannon, formally known as "Black Blood", the great thief. I am shrouded by my legend, I am hidden by my identity...

...and I am a gypsy.

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Please Review, and so sorry that I haven't updated sooner! I had full intentions to, but things got REALLY busy. However please be glad to know that I am woking ahead of time so I can update more often if I get the chance. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Okay! I'm posting this because I'm assuming that in the near future I will be unable to access the internet. The hurricane coming will probably knock out the power, so no updates til' it's back up! :( I hope this will appease until said time, and please! Review! I can't tell how I'm doing if I don't get feedback! Tell me how you feel about the characters and situations, tell me you guys are reading this! I await your responses with baited breath. **Takes deep breath** If I suffocate, I'm blaming it on you guys. :)

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Chapter 5

Erik's POV

It was a cloudy day at sea. No rain was expected, just a haze of gray over the sky, and a cool breeze that demanded a thicker covering then was usually called for this time of year, late August. I took in a deep breath, everything had fallen into a more peaceful state since that day in early March when I had felt my world collapse around me. As it turned out, Nadir and I really did turn out to be very good friends. We came to understand each other, knowing the other's boundaries, preferences, style of work and relaxation, and personality quirks. I tended to be more introversive and reflective, not finding it easy to 'work with people' as Nadir called it. As for Nadir, either he was too nosey, or he was right when I REALLY didn't want him to be. But it was a friendship, one that I cherished greatly.

Shortly after arriving at Nadir's 'doorstep', he had explained to me what my father's plan had been. Basically, he had wanted me to be Nadir's business partner. My years at the opera had taught me the world of business in general, and my knack for learning quickly and having a strong intellect gave me the edge to be 'a good businessman'. The first few months were a bit rocky. After all, The Dardoga was a cautious man. While I was ready any moment to kill the first person who made inquiry about my past, or my mask. But eventually as The Persian and I got to working more together, he realised the talent I had for turning a little into a lot.

Soon the crew was easy around my general presence and they had accepted the fact that, yes, I wore a mask. For what reason? None knew, none cared to know. They just knew that while I was fine enough to be around any other time, if I was in a foul mood, best stay clear unless you wanted to be 'punjabbed'. A delightful rumor that my dear friend Nadir started on my behalf.

Apparently I have a rope made of cat gut that I use to kill people with. While I do possess a rope, it is not made of cat. I have an inclination to cats and would dread bringing such an elegant creature to an untimely demise. Instead I used rabbit gut to make my first rope, and eventually I developed both the weapon and style of the Punjab Lasso. Rabbit gut is not only easier to obtain, but it is - as far as guts go - very easy to work with.

So I and Nadir worked out that he was to be the front man. The representative of the company. While I handled all the back-work and sticky business that usually gets stuck in the cogs of business deals. The brains. (Nadir was happy enough to hand the job over to me, and after a while I began to see just why.) Though it was frustrating at times, I still found working for a living as an enjoyable thing -a feeling I wished to keep alive.

"Ah, Erik! So here you are. I should have known you would be in your favorite spot." Of course The Dardoga did have an uncanny knack of knowing just when to come in on me when I didn't really want him to. "Yes Nadir, you have found me. What is it you want? Do any of the crew members need a personal encounter with The Punjab Lasso? Or are we experiencing difficulties with that 'Special Cargo'? By the way, Nadir? I forbid you to ever accept a shipment of capuchin monkeys EVER again. I don't care how popular they are or how good they are for business. NO MORE."

Nadir laughed at the last statement, much to my annoyance. "Oh? So you think that's funny do you? How about YOU make sure they all get accounted for every night and YOU take care of buying them at that blasted market you are so fond of? I am resolved to deal with them no more!" The Persian's countenance suddenly changed at my statement as he attempted to become sober once more. "Now Erik..."

"Don't you 'Now Erik' me! As soon as we can I'm tossing those high-bred RATS off my ship!" Nadir raised his hands in defeat. He really was learning what battles to pursue, and which to just lose. "Alright Erik, No more Monkeys. But that is not what I was here to speak with you about." I leaned my back against the banister, and crossed my arms across my chest. I was in for the long-haul. If Nadir has something to speak to you about, it probably means nothing but trouble. "Alright Nadir, I'm listening."

That's when Nadir took a deep breath, and simply said: "Erik, the course has changed. We're not going to Spain, we are going to France." I took a sharp breath in, no wonder Nadir waited so long to tell me this one. 6 days from Spain and he tells me we are returning to the one place on holy earth I can't stand! With a calm that surprised even me, I asked: "Where exactly in France are we headed to?"

"Marseille. Instead of Barcelona. The monkeys are not the only special cargo we have right now. We are carrying a large order for a very influential French Tradesman. It's an order I couldn't afford to turn down, since his connections are to the very men we depend on for the bulk of our business." The Dardoga winced at his words, knowing full well that this had all been done behind my back. He waited for my reaction.

I just stood there, all the thoughts building up in my head. Finally, they could not be held back... "Our business? OUR business?!" Nadir started to back away, he had known this was coming. "Erik, now I know you are upset-" I began to stalk towards him. "Upset?! You go behind my back not only on a very important deal that I SHOULD have been a part of as your 'partner'. But you do it, then don't tell me about it until we are a bloody week away from bloody France!"

The Persian's fear was quite evident at this point. He tried masking it, but I could see it in his eyes, and that's all I needed. "Nadir, you know WHY I hate that place, why it gives me such pain, yet you choose anyway to force me into this very uncomfortable position. I have told you time and time again. DO NOT MAKE ANY DEALS INVOLVING FRANCE. I'd throw you overboard right now if I didn't think the crew would try leaving me the moment we docked ship." I scowled in his direction, hoping he felt every ounce of my anger. He deserved it.

The Dardoga sighed. "Look Erik I'm sorry! I should not have tried to deceive you. But it's too late! We can't back out now. Heaven knows what will happen if we do. I KNOW France holds bad memories for you, but you NEED to move on!" For a while we just stood there, the tension so thick it was almost difficult to breath. Then Nadir broke the silence by declaring: "We're going to Marseille, then traveling by land to Spain. You never really got to see France, Erik. You lived your whole life in an opera house basement. I understand it's hard to face your past, but it must be done! Sooner or later this was going to happen. Might as well get it over with, eh?" He looked at me one last time before leaving me - and my thoughts - alone.

I stood there in the dark for a while, then turned from the balcony and re-entered my room. I let the black velvet curtains close in front of the glass door. The candlelight cast an eerie glow upon the dark wooden walls, and played among the curves and dips of the ebony furniture. A leather chair stood behind a large desk situated in the off-center of the room, while in the corner, a magnificent black piano was bolted to the floor. Ready and waiting for when it's master would finally play it. I stepped over the dark red persian rug, and sat on the bench in front of the grand instrument.

For a moment my hands went still, hanging in the dead air over the keys. She had been the last person I'd played for, it had been the ending aria for Marguerite in 'FAUST'. How she had soared over the music itself, lifting the song to a heavenly hight. She had been so happy to get the part. "Maestro, Will it be the same?" The question had slipped uneasily from her lips. I had wondered what she was talking about, and apparently the look in my eyes had said it too. "Will it... be like singing here... with you." At that moment I had understood what she meant, and that's when I began to play.

She stood by me, awestruck by the pure passion I poured into the music. And there in my room, I still used that same passion. Even though she wasn't there to see or hear it. I felt my soul slowly pour from me, into each measure. At the end of the song, I had turned to her and said; "Remember, always remember. That where the music is, there I am also. As long as you have music, I will never be far from you..."

The last note was struck: "...Christine." I breathed her name like some holy prayer, it burned on my lips. For I am just a demon, and I don't even deserve to say her name. She is an angel, right?

Suddenly my lips weren't the only things burning, soon my eyes and throat seared with unshed tears. I tried to hold them back, but I couldn't, and no more rational thought came to me. I was overcome by my grief over losing her. Why hadn't I stayed when she'd kissed me?! She had shown no fear and I'd left her in the arms of that demmed vicomte! What had made me do such a thing? At the time I had felt tired. Tired of wondering if this time she really loved me. So she kissed me? What did that mean? Nothing. In comparison with the love and devotion I had given, in comparison with the love she'd proven for Philipe, in comparison with the lengths she'd gone to prove what? That she'd loved me despite her other love and the hideousness of my mortal being?

No. It meant nothing.

And yet... It meant everything.

"Oh Christine... My angel Christine... You have been cast from your pedestal... Yet you have not been cast from my heart..."

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Ha-Ha! Yes, I feel daggers in my back. My sister wants to kill me because I won't let her preview the next chapter. (See? I give no favoritism to even my own family.) But you will have to just sit there pondering Erik's lingering feelings a while longer! :) Enjoy yourselves, AND PLEASE REVIEW. 0:)


	6. Chapter 6

This was a very hard chapter to write. First off, after writing half of it the flame if inspiration left me, and then hurricane sandy knocked out our power. :( Then, for about 3-4 days after the power came back I just couldn't get what I wanted to happen in words! I really don't write action very well, it's so not my forte. But then! Like a golden comet from the heavens I was struck with what to do! It didn't completely end how I'd planned it, but I got what is now one of my favorite chapter! So enjoy!

Warning: This get's graphic. I don't know if it's enough to bump the rating, but I gave it the rating it has now just to cushion for this sort of thing! I don't want to bump it up to M just for this chapter alone, because then it's less people who would look at this. Tell me if it's really bad enough to bump it up, because unless someone says so I'm sticking with the current rating.

DISCLAIMER: The only thing I DON'T own is 'The Phantom of the Opera'. Everything else is MINE! Mwa-ha-ha-ha-HA!

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Chapter 6

Rhiannon's POV

Just for the record; I HATE dark, cold, rainy nights.

You know, the kind where it's damp, and the chilled air creeps behind your neck, making you jump at shadows that weren't there a moment ago. The sky is a brackish purple-blue, while the ground either moves beneath your feet, or is frozen - as if the earth itself is holding it's breath -.

The wind blows over the surrounding area, crawling through outstretched limbs, ghosting past the silent buildings or lifeless trees, weaving under lonely bridges, and rustling the dry grasses. Swish, swish. Swish, swish. Dead, dry, like the rasping voices of the dead. You can almost taste the metal on the air. And you wonder if it's from the Gates of Tartarus rubbing against one another, opening up for your soul.

That was the kind of night it was, as "Black Blood" made "his" way, deeper into the country side. The city is safer to be in, mostly because there are more places to hide. In an instant, you can duck into a doorway or melt into a crowd of people. Out here, when you are in such a vulnerable position as this, you really need to either prevent the need for such a disappearing act, or at least have the firepower to back up your cause.

Why were we there? The ring. It was time to deliver it to the person who had 'ordered' it. I'd never seen him before, no one had. No one but Jacob, the leader of the band. He had apparently set the deal up a couple of months back (I'd say around March), and planning to obtain it - plus the opportunity to execute said plan - had taken this long.

Now it was time for both sides to "pay-up", and frankly I was getting nervous. The group sent to accomplish the transactions was composed of myself, Silvius (the silver-toothed man), Marco (a younger man, practically still a boy.), Lombardo (the sword-master), and of course Jacob.

But this pairing didn't make sense. Though I had worked with all of them in past situations, our skills were not equivalent to the mission we were assigned. Lombardo was an older man, he mostly just taught the younger ones (as well as the older) his trade. He was by no means invalid - he could hold himself well enough in battle - but such a delicate thing as this was not something I would have chosen him first for. "Hey Black Blood? What's wrong? You look worried about something." Lombardo's steady voice and gray eyes for some reason only made me feel worse. He'd been like an uncle to me since I didn't have one. Occasionally like a father. The thought of anything happening to him...

I shook my head; "Nah, I'm fine. The air is just getting to me." I flashed a smile his way. Even though he couldn't see my mouth, he saw the smile in my eyes, forced as it was.

"Air? When has air ever cowed the great thief, Black Blood?" I turned to the speaker. Silvius was grinning like an idiot, of course. His several silver teeth glinting in the weak moonlight. He was like the annoying cousin I never had, and I loved him for it. And so to express my cousinly love, I punched him in the arm hard enough for him to really 'feel' how much I loved him. "Ouch! Hey I need that!" He rubbed his now sore arm and scowled at me, though it was hard to see through the inane grin he was wearing.

"Silvius, will you ever grow up? I am coming to fear you will always be that 14 year old twit who taught me - a 6 year old! - to punch boys and make flags out of the baker's underpants." He couldn't hold it together. He burst out laughing in that humorous way that sounded like a large church-bell: Clear and Loud. It put me to ease a bit. Silvius was a great fighter, but he was a great utiliser of brute strength. Which was something I didn't think would be required when we were trying to keep peaceful relations with our patrons.

"Oh Black! That was truly our finest moment! 'Twas a pity that we finally had to leave that cunning baker behind in that little town. He would have been excellent to have around for a laugh!" I stopped to look at him sarcastically; "You MEAN... That you would have loved to play pranks on the poor man til' he finally gave up the ghost. Honestly Sil'! You are worse now then you were then!" He shrugged, obviously too smart to argue with me.

"Um... Rhi... I mean... Black Blood?" I turned to Marco, he looked embarrassed about something. "Yes, Marc?" He looked annoyed with my statement, he hated when we used that nick-name on him. And so we used it all the more. "It's Marco. Well... I just wanted to know what it is exactly we are doing tonight. I mean, I know we're here to deliver the ring, and collect payment, but why me? Why not someone like Joshua or Peter? They are more experienced than me after all."

It was true, and things weren't adding up. Marco was a very sweet boy. He was sensitive and shy, but his heart was noble and in times of trouble his bravery was strong. A person you could always count on. He was like a little brother to me, and in that way I always looked out for him, and he always had my back. But it was true, he wasn't very experienced at the time. He'd gone with me on missions before, but not anything like this. Once more, he wasn't one for killing. He would knock people out or tie them up, but he always would do that before he even considered killing anyone. It was an admirable attitude, but not one that would serve well if something went wrong. Not here, not now.

But I had to put up a brave face. If he lost faith, if things went down, I don't know how long he'd make it... "You know why we are here. We are here to keep the peace if anything should go wrong with the transactions. And to protect Jacob." He still looked doubtful. "And if things get dirty, don't worry! You aren't alone. I'm right here, and so is Silvius and Lombardo. Between the three of us, nothing will happen to you. I promise."

Finally he looked more calm, and I set upon the task of calming myself. Who's idea was it to arrange us like this? I thought, and then I remembered. Jacob. I looked ahead, and there he was. He had been the leader of our band since the very beginning, all memories of the early days where laced with his leadership and direction. His silver hair was pulled into a low pony, and his tanned skin was stretched over the strong contours of his face. From underneath hooded silver eyebrows, his dull brown eyes glinted over the surrounding area, searching for something only he knew about. He had been the only one to ever meet our mysterious patrons. And he was the only one who knew where the rendezvous would take place.

At that moment, doubt crossed my mind. Could he have... Set us up? But it was there only for a second, before I violently expelled such a nasty thought from my head. How could I think such a thing?! Jacob had taken me into the family, he had mentored me, guided me, fed me, and given me a purpose in life. Along with everyone else! He really was the closest thing I had to a father these days, and he treated me like his own daughter. What could possible inspire such a gruesome thought?

"Jacob!" But I thought it would be prudent to at least ask. I trotted up next to him, and said in a low voice; "I just want to know, why did you choose to bring this group? It would have been much better to bring some of the more 'professional' men." He smiled and looked at me. "Why Black Blood! That's why I brought you. Your skills and your reputation are more than enough to handle any 'problems' we may have." I started to feel angry, this was no light matter! I didn't appreciate his current logic. "But Jacob-" I hissed. I never got to finish. "Rhiannon." He quietly growled. His eyes seemed to now search through me, cutting away at everything in me.

I winced at his use of my name. If he was saying it while we were on duty, he more then meant business. "You are not to question my authority, I am your leader. And further more-" I lowered my head waiting for the final blow. "Go ahead, just say it." I thought, "Just say I'm nothing but a worthless orphan. I don't have the right to question anything you tell me." But his voice softened, and his eyes became docile one more. "-And further more... You are my daughter. In spirit, if not in flesh." I cautiously lifted my face to his. "I have raised you, trained you from a wee youngin', cared for you - loved you - as my own. I consider you more mine then even my own son was. - God rest his soul - I depend upon your trust more than anything." He drew a sharp breath.

"When your Father and Mother - God rest their souls - came to me with you as a babe. I swore to them I would care for you while they carried out their duties. I tried to tell them that they didn't need to, that their effort was unnecessary. But they did it anyway, drunk with the need for adventure and danger. And they paid for it with their lives. Obey me, and you won't suffer the fate they did." I didn't need him to tell me this. I'd heard the story a hundred times, how my Father and Mother had died trying to obtain some silly treasure. When they should have been home with me. I missed them, and wish I'd known them better, but in my heart I was bitter that they'd chosen their careers over me. Chosen to die as thieves, rather than live as parents. Not that I felt I was in a position to accuse. I was Black Blood! My track record was worse than theirs in the long run.

"There! That stone barn in the field over yonder. The contact point is in sight. Hang back Silvius, and head in at the first sign of trouble. Marco, Lombardo, Black Blood, follow me." No time to reminisce now, I started off towards the barn, right behind the rest of the group. From where I could observe, and take action easily need be. I looked around for anyone hiding in the shadows, and noted places of 'special interest'. That just means I was looking for good hiding spots, or good places for escaping easily.

The barn was dark, except for a few torches burning on the walls. And there, at the other end of the building stood our 'employers'. They didn't exactly look like what generally came to these deals, they wore uniforms. Which was strange considering the nature of the job we had. I couldn't make out the colors or designs, because really in was too dark for anyone to see anything. In the center of the uniformed group, stood a single man. He looked like a weasel in almost every respect. From the pointed contours of his face, to the slim build of his body, even his eyes were sharp and beady! And the black clothes he wore, added to the black, greased back hair... It was nature's way of saying; "Back Off! Don't Touch! Danger!" And unfortunately I wasn't in a position to listen to my better instincts.

"You made it, Good. I trust the ah... Package... Is ready to be delivered?" The weasel man sneered as the words left his mouth. He looked like he was spitting bad fruit.  
"Yes, It's ready." Jacob looked equally as repulsed as the weasel had. I say 'had', because next moment the look on weasel's face changed, to something that looked much more, darker. It immediately made uncomfortable, because then he was advancing towards me! I didn't flinch, though under my coat I rested my hand on one of my knives. Before he could get any closer, Jacob's iron hand came down on the man's shoulder, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

"You don't listen good. I said the package was ready, I didn't say it was ready to obtain! We have a few little matters to sort out before you can lay one filthy hand on the merchandise." Jacob's face looked hard as stone, he wasn't happy. Far from it! Something felt so very wrong, every sense in me told me to get running as far from this place as possible! But my training held strong, and I didn't budge. I looked over to Marco. Poor Kid! He looked positively stricken! Though there was nothing I could do about it. I moved a little closer to him, and took the big risk of reaching over and squeezing his hand beneath his cloak. His hand was so cold, and his eyes seemed to bulge from his head a bit. But he quickly collected himself, and squeezed back, before I dropped his hand and deftly moved back before anyone noticed I had moved in the first place.

The weasel sneered, then spit on the ground. He turned back to his men, and nodded. They shifted, and from the middle two came forward with a large money-box between them. It was set down, and the lid was flipped, revealing the gold we had asked for. But what caught my eye was the strange little bundle of papers sitting on top of the heap. What was it? Gold. Silver. Precious Commodities. Not Paper. Those were our prices. What was the deal Jacob had rigged? Was there a part we didn't know about...

Before I could continue the thought, the chest was abruptly closed. And the two men drew back. And as I looked around, a boulder hit the pit of my stomach. The shift that had taken place had not only brought forward the two men, but now, I belatedly realised, we were surrounded by the rest of the soldiers from the other side.

"Jacob..." I deeply bit out. I kept up the male facade despite the darkening situation. "I see it Black. You know what to do." All was still, as I fluidly moved into attack position. Not even the horses outside made a single sound, the only noise produced was by the cold, haunting wind teasing at the corners of the stone building. I closed my eyes, searching for something. There I found it, my mother's voice. I remember how she sang my lullaby, even though it's the only thing I remember.

~When the evening falls, and the daylight is fading...~

My eyes snapped open, and I turned to slice open the stomach of the approaching soldier to my left, as he fell forward I stabbed him in the back.

~From within me calls, could it be I am sleeping?~

As one approaches from the front, I shoved the now corpse into him with my foot. Knocking him over, as I turn to deal with the guy stabbing towards my right side.

~For a moment I stray,  
Then it holds me completely  
Close to home - I cannot say  
Close to home feeling so far away~

Both knives go up under his rib cage, I twist them up then down, then I throw him to the side once more hindering the movements of his companions.

~As I walk the room, there before me a shadow...~

I back up to were Lombardo is skewering a man, then deal with the guy foolish enough to try getting him from the back while he wasn't looking.

~From another world, where no other can follow.~

One grabs me from behind, so I flip over his head dragging him to the ground. There I snap his neck and whip around to slash the faces of two holding throwing axes.

~Carry me to my own, to where I can cross over  
Close to home - I cannot say  
Close to home feeling so far away~

I hear a moan, I feel the blood chill in my core. I feel a bloody body fall against my back, splattering blood on my neck. I turn my head...

~Forever searching; never right,  
I am lost in oceans of night.~

"Lombardo!" I scream! I catch his body and lay it down as gently as possible. I search his face. For a moment a sad smile plays in his eyes, on his lips. Then the light dies in those glassy gray orbs, and his jaw goes slack.

~Forever hoping I can find memories  
Those memories I left behind.~

Some fool drags a sword across the leather on my back. It leaves barely a scratch, because the leather is thick and treated to withstand more than average. Anger comes out in a cry of blood and fury. The axes left by the two dead man are taken and thrust down into the shoulders of the fool behind me.

~Even though I leave will I go on believing  
That this time is real - am I lost in this feeling?~

The torches for some reason give out. I glare with all the hate in my being at his pale, scared face. "Meet the devil" I sharply whisper to him. But before I can take out my vengeance on him, I see - as if in slow motion - my greatest fear start to play out behind his head. I watch as Marco, bloody and fearful, gets backed up against the wall by three guys. "NO!" I scream, as I fight my way towards him. Leaping over dead bodies, quickly stabbing live ones.

~Like a child passing through,  
Never knowing the reason...~

Then fate deals me the sucker punch. Just as I reach the first guy, one of the others shove their sword into Marco's young throat. I don't feel, I rip to shreds. The first two's faces are no longer recognizable, the third begs for mercy. I give him a sickly sweet smile, my eyes burning with toxic glee and awesome pain. I bend down and gently rest my hand on his neck. With only a few seconds he must hope that I've decided to spare him, because his face spells frenzied relief. Then I dig my nails in, as blood pours from his mouth, I rip out his throat.

~I am home - I know the way...~

I turn, and see Marco, just barely alive. My little brother, Marco.

~...I am home - feeling oh, so far away.~

I dropped to my knees. And then I leaned forward, pulling him onto my lap like a mother, or an older sister. "Rhiannon..." He wheezed. "Shhh! Marco, shhh... Don't speak. Don't speak. I'm here. I'm here." I chanted it over and over, like some mantra I hoped would make him better, and ease the pain in my heart. "Rhi... I... You... Promised..." I lost it. I ripped off my mask. "I'm sorry Marco! Forgive me! God forgive me!" Tears fell down my face, I didn't have the strength to hold them in. "Rhi... annon... You... I'm... Sorry..." And with that his beautiful eyes, always so joyful, full of curiosity, slipped closed for the last time.

I was silent, tears stopped flowing. I sat pooled in his blood, my enemies blood, Lombardo's blood. Blood that was black in the moonlight.

I, Black Blood, Black with blood.

Two men - one wounded above the eye, the other sporting a bloody gash on his arm - grabbed me and dragged me up. The weasel walked forward, looking for all the world as if he was more than pleased with me. I was shocked, too shocked. More than was even allowed for the human body. Shocked out of emotion, shocked out of response. He reached forward as if to touch my cheek, when a shot rang out!

I felt pain shoot through my left arm. Dang it! I hissed at the pain and looked up to find the shooter. What I saw next, nothing in the world could have prepared me for...

"Jacob!" The weasel barked out! "Are you mad?! No merchandise, no payment! Your little assassin plays out well, the master will be pleased to, employ her skills." I had lost the sense of balance and sanity for that moment, Jacob ignored weasel face and aimed at me again, this time just a little more to the right than the last one had been. I jerked my left arm, fire roared in it and I let forth a scream. But it was worth it, because the bullet hit the man I'd pulled into my way instead of me. I yanked my right arm free and sprinted to the door. A million senses rang out! I was running towards escape! I was leaving Marco and Lombardo behind! Jacob had betrayed us! Jacob had betrayed ME! I was angry, I was sad. I was running for my life!

I grabbed the first horse I saw and jumped on, as rain started to pour from the now thundering skies. I turned and made way for the road, intending to grab Silvius along the way and take him with me. I wouldn't leave him now! I reached the road, and saw Silvius lying in it. No blood, no obvious signs of broken bones. But there he was, and the last of the men were right behind me. If he was dead, staying wasn't an option. I acknowledged his body, said some words encouraging his peace - and that of the other two - and galloped like a mad woman down the now stormy road.

I heard them, they were behind me. I couldn't get caught! I'd rather die. The wind stung my face, and so I put my mask back in place, for whatever little protection it would provide. The rain mingled with the blood on me and coming from me, I must have appeared to be flowing with blood, and I was probably leaving a trail of it. Though it hardly mattered considering that my pursuers were breathing down my neck. I don't recall where I was, the sounds, the smell, I don't know how long I rode, but I know the fire that raged in my mind, ripping from heat of hell to chill of death. Fury, grief. Guilt, admonishment. Hate, remorse. Soon I couldn't feel anything. I was numb in body and mind. Blindly trying to survive.

Then it happened, Something sharp hit the side of my head, and I fell off. The last thing I remember is my horse galloping on as if nothing happened, and the men going after it, probably unaware that I was no longer there. "Just as well, let me die in peace." And then I was swarmed with memories of everyone I had once loved, carefully bidding goodbye to each one. "Farewell, farewell..."

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Can I write a cliffy or what? :) I hope you enjoyed it, the song Rhiannon's mother had sung to her is "Evening Falls" by Enya. Listen to it! It's a great song. :D Review! It means the world to me when I get an email saying I got a new review!


	7. Chapter 7

I've done my research, and I'm taking a horrible stretch in creative license. The Marseille Opera House is in real life very prominent and successful, even at this time in the 19th century. Unfortunately though, Erik was in a VERY bad mood at the time I wrote this, and so he thinks very little of it. But he's a genius! He has a right to hate cultural examples of higher forms of musical and physical art, right?

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Chapter 7

Erik's POV

I was in a bad mood. Everyone who saw me knew it. They didn't need to see my face (they couldn't anyway because of the hood I wore over my head), because displeasure was radiating off me in waves. Nadir's little 'stunt' as I called it, had put me in miserable spirits all week. As far as I was concerned, the little French twit we had come to trade with had NOT been worth the trouble. I was simply glad he took those filthy rats everyone INSISTS on calling monkeys off my hands!

Marseille wasn't really any better. Too many people, not as pretty as Paris, and a miserable excuse for an opera house. I'd had my fill of it the moment I'd stepped off the ship. Worse yet, people would just stare at you for no reason! I was wearing a cloak with a hood. A nice one, mind you. I didn't look like a slum dog or a murderer. (though anyone assuming the latter would be correct.) And yet even the dogs were looking at me, trying to find some flaw with my actions. It was miserable, and I was even more put out that we'd have to actually travel through the whole darn country!

Unfortunately, Nadir was still alive. I'd foolishly decided to spare his life, though he was in full mind of just how precarious HIS situation was. "Come on, Erik! Just enjoy it for a while! We're off the ship! There's fresh air and solid ground. There's an opera! Shouldn't that at least make you excited?" I glared at him from under the hood. "Nadir, first off, I didn't mind it on the ship. I found the atmosphere relaxing and refreshing. Second, that is no more an opera than you are a composer. It's a theatre as far as I'm concerned, and I abhor theatre. Third, there are at least 100 people just STARING at me! Why should I be happy right now? Hmm?"

Nadir just laughed. "Ah Erik! You have an astounding talent for turning everything into a direct crusade against your personal happiness!" I humphed and turned from him. He really was horrible, being right all the time. We walked up to the hotel, and the rest of my evening turned out to be no better!

The maids who passed me or came to bring me something would treat me either like a 3-year old - asking me if I wanted w-a-a-a-t-e-e-e-e-r-r - or like a unpredictable animal! One foolish girl had thought it prudent to carry her tray at eye level (as if that would do anything) and when I turned to take it from her, she let out a scream and sent the tray right into my face! I don't know how I did it, but I managed not to kill her. I came pretty close to doing it with the look I gave her though, because she was purple with fear, and she kneeled over and fell to the floor! The doctor assured me though that she was indeed alive, the heart-attack hadn't been a major one after all. I decided not to eat in the dining room, and of course Nadir came back to tell me about his WONDERFUL evening, so the next morning I made sure he told me about his horrible night. (Revenge is so much sweeter when you can act innocent about it, and then listen to your victims whine about their 'horrid experiences'.)

We checked out of our rooms, and Nadir wanted to 'explore' a bit. So naturally I decided if HE was going to enjoy himself, I might as well also. When we'd finish dealing with the French Tradesman after first arriving in Marseille, Nadir had wanted me to go to the 'opera' that was located in the heart of the city. I had gone ahead of him to see it for myself, I had taken one look in it and turned around. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the 'opera' was nothing but a joke to the people in it! And so that morning I intended to let them see what a joke it was...

It was freeing almost, nostalgic really, to run hidden among the shadows of the flies. It was just too funny, the way they reacted to props falling, doors loudly closing, instruments playing on their own, and voices coming from all around them. The ballet girls ran out after a flying comet prop had landed right in the middle of them. The chorus members departed after a violin started to slowly play the funeral march. And finally the leading lady and man ran screaming when I started to echo their voices singing the aria from the opera they were rehearsing, where the leads confined in their deaths to themselves. Then I let an evil laugh echo around the theatre, which finally drove the stage hands, and the orchestra out.

I left feeling strangely satisfied. No one had said anything about 'The Phantom of the Opera', no mob was on it's way to search for me, no managers griped about unreasonable demands, and nothing made me stay there. I was free to leave! No consequences, and no more time wasted trying to forge a life out of shadows and dreams. Not that I'd hated running 'The Opera Populair', but now I was free. And I felt safe. Safe taking my life and my future into my own hands.

Nadir, of course, was unaware about my little 'visit' to the opera house. He was under the impression I'd gone to some landmark consisting of some wet caves sporting primitive drawings. Yes, of course that's what I'd waste my valuable time on! Nadir however knows better than to question me, so he remained ignorant to my morning's activities.

I gazed out the window of the carriage. Nadir had done well to have a private carriage ready for us, one that could be driven by a faithful crew member. I hated traveling with strangers, and disliked dealing with stubborn coach drivers. This arrangement was much better in my mind.

Though I hated to admit it, the French countryside was rather beautiful. The air was sweet, the atmosphere was beautiful and fresh. Unlike that crowded, polluted city, this place was somewhat comforting. I started to actually enjoy myself!

Then I saw some dark shape lying in a ditch by the road. Something that would come to change my life, forever. Though I didn't know it, or think it at the time.

"Stop the carriage!" I called to the driver. Nadir looked confused, we were in the middle of nowhere so I didn't blame him. He sent me a look that was clearly questioning my sanity. I sent him one that not-so-clearly stated that he was in for a world of trouble if he interfered. He got the message, and I stepped out to investigate the black mass on the side of the road.

At first I couldn't tell what it was. It had the shape of a human, but nothing else gave hint to what it might be. On closer inspection, it was covered in blood stains, and the ground near the head was soaked with it too. I bent down, and confirmed it was indeed a human. As I carefully pulled the hood from it's face, what I saw caught me a bit off guard. It was wearing a mask! A silver one, tied over the mouth and nose. I didn't even attempt to remove it. If it were me it would be the LAST thing I would have wanted, so I left it in place. I felt the back of it head, and found a flesh wound where something had probably hit it. Poor, unhappy creature. Whoever he was, he didn't deserve to be left in some ditch to rot. But Nadir would NOT let me bring a dead body with us.

But as I turned to leave, I heard a moan. It was soft, barely audible. No normal person would have heard it. But I'm not a normal person. I turned and bent down once more, I couldn't feel any breath leaving the nose or mouth. But I checked for a pulse, and there I found one! Weak, but steady. This person was indeed alive! "You are a very fortunate person! Anyone else, and you may not have made it." I carefully put my arms under the back and under the knees, making sure I didn't jar too much, should there be internal damage like broken ribs. He was very light for man, probably just a boy. The lad must have gotten in a fight, and was left there to die.

"Nadir! Open the door, we have a guest."

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Save an author, write a review. ;)


	8. Chapter 8

Okay! You reviews have prompted me to action! I have, or at this point had a few chapters written ahead. My muse was FINALLY cooperating with me! Cheers for gold-winged inspiration! :D Anyway, for those who are confused (Sorry about that, don't want to make it too obvious especially for Erik. And I assumed everyone remembered what I said about the mask in chapter 6 and first in chapter 4.) It's Rhiannon! The person in the ditch. Remember I had her pass out after being thrown from the horse? Ringing any bells? :) Erik, of course is currently in the dark. But I shall be, swift, in my endeavors to 'bring him to the light.' ;) Enjoy!

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Chapter 8

Erik's POV

It took the rest of the day, but we finally reached the inn Nadir had reserved for us (By mail. That man was too efficient sometimes.). In the meantime, keeping the boy alive had been a simple matter. While living in The Opera Populair, I hadn't simply wasted my whole life obsessing over EVERY detail of the opera house. There was too much time! There was always a spare moment to perfect things. And anyway, my father, Gerrard Carrier, had OWNED the opera for many years. So compliance with my wishes wasn't exactly something I was vying for! I had employed much of my time, perfecting MYSELF. What parts could be worked on, anyway. Studying Art, History, Languages, Mathematics, and skills such as Architecture, Sword Play, Sewing (It was necessary. So don't you dare mock me.), Cooking (The 'cooks' at the opera were just stable workers in disguise, I swear.), Riding, Writing, and anything I could get my hands on. But one thing I had spent so much time on, was medicinal mastery (A doctor, if you will).

I had tried every method possible to yes, change my appearance. 'Modern Medicine' as they call it was a complete waste of time. While there were things I learned that would come to be useful, I found that many of their principles were warped and barbaric. So I turned mostly to holistic means of healing. The comparison was astounding, as many 'natural' cures worked a thousand times better than what most doctors applied on their patients. Unfortunately, it did little to change my facade. Though the education, I believe, was well worth the effort.

The boy was alive, and slightly more stabilized by the time we reached our destination. Though not completely by my efforts. His health was in very good shape, so the odds were tipped in his favor. Though it must be said; His life was still very much in the balance. He was suffering from a high fever, along with the physical injuries he had sustained. So it wasn't looking particularly bright. Luckily, Nadir had reserved a set of rooms that would serve our current situation quite nicely. Three rooms, one in the center, one on each side. The center was for sitting, reading, eating, whatever you wanted really. And the other two were obviously for sleeping. They were joined by doors on both sides of the center room, and the center room had a couch that I intended to use for my bed. And our guest could have my room. I WOULD have appealed to Nadir's better half, asking him to give up HIS room. But the boy, and his medical care, were my responsibility. Besides, I could take ample revenge for his inhospitable nature later...

"Erik, how is he?" I looked over the bed at Nadir. It was night, and I had just finished getting the things together that I would need if the boy was going to survive. I was about to give him a special herb mixture that would strengthen the immune system, when I stopped short. He was still wearing the mask. Nadir looked at me expectantly. "Erik, it needs to come off."

I scowled at him before replying. "Nadir I can't just take it off! If it were me I wouldn't want my mask taken off. No one deserves to be exposed like that."

Nadir sighed exasperatedly. "Erik that's the point! You understand. If anyone is qualified it's you. How will he get better if he can't breath properly anyway?"

"Nadir, if you haven't noticed the mask is ingeniously aerated to allow un-hindered breathing."

He looked ready to pop a nerve after I said that. "That's not the point Erik! Sooner or later it needed to happen! And anyway, have you even SEEN what this boy is carrying? Weapons! And you found him covered in blood, lying in a ditch. I think we should have just brought him to the authorities and let them deal with it. After all, what if this person is a-" I shot him a look that stopped him in his words.

"Don't say it Nadir. What am I after all? If this boy is a thief, or a killer, what difference does it make to us? Whatever his story is, I'm sure it can't be any worse that what I am already."

The Persian had obviously had enough of dancing around trying to get me to preform. He looked me dead in the eye. "Erik, enough. Take it off, or by thunder I'll do it myself. Just do it, because it's not as important as you seem to think it is." Though, he had no idea at the moment just how ignorant THAT statement was. I turned to the boy, and carefully reached behind the head to undo the tie holding the mask on. I pulled the mask away...

...and nearly died then and there.

Because it wasn't a boy at all. "It's a girl!" I nearly shouted! "I can't believe it! This whole time... Oh darn Nadir, what now?" Nadir looked just as shocked as I felt. He couldn't even speak for a full 10 minutes. And neither could I. "Well, this puts a damper in things! How am I supposed to take care of a FEMALE patient!" Of course Nadir had no idea what I meant by that. He looked at me and gestured to the girl that was still lying unconscious on my bed.

I was just as shocked that he didn't realize just WHY I couldn't do what I had intended to do before. "Are you crazy Persian?! I am not touching her!" He looked confused.

"You were willing to do it before. Now help me take her jacket off. That can't be comfortable."

"I thought she was a he! Yes, I was going to take her jacket and shirt off, I was going to check for broken ribs, I was... Oh God I can't even THINK about it now! Circumstances are different Nadir. I will not lay a hand on her. I am not a pervert like you are." The Dardoga then realized what I was insinuating, and he jumped up from the chair he had been in.

"Erik how dare you! I am concerned for the girl's health and well being, while YOU are rejecting her because she is a woman." I then became angry.

"I do not wish to defile the poor girl!" I nearly yelled, not wishing to disturb anyone close enough to hear if I started screaming.

Nadir's eyes narrowed, "Are you saying that's what you would do?"

I felt like a blow had been placed to my stomach, a sucker punch. "N- No! That's not what I was s- saying! I- I was just saying- if she were conscious I- Darn it all Nadir! You know that's not what I meant!" We decided the solution was simple, we would bring a maid in, instruct her on what to do, and leave her to do it. After - carefully - removing the weapons (the ones we could respectfully see and get at anyway), we found an older woman who knew most of the remedies and methods I was considering anyway, and left her and her assistant to care for 'our little guest'.

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You know? I had way too much fun with this chapter. :) I intend to have a few more jokes at Erik's expense, but for now I had been appeased. :) Hee-Hee-Hee.

I would be happy if you review,  
For every chapter that I do,  
I write it will full mind of you.  
Are my words not true?


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for the reviews guys! I've been working REALLY hard on this so I'm a few chapters ahead now. :D Yay Me! What does this mean for you? More consistent updates! I don't like being without a chapter to post. But my friends really like this chapter, so I'm hoping you like it too. 3 Enjoy!

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Chapter 9

Rhiannon's POV

My head felt HORRIBLE. It was like the grand-mama of all headaches, and it wasn't just because of the hole in my head. It was because of the hole in my heart.

I moaned and rolled over, then regretted it immediately because of how sore I was. Had a horse sat on my chest? I couldn't BELIEVE the pain I was in. But it made sense, after what had... Happened...

I gasped, as the memories of that night flooded back. The talk, the fight, the blood, the rain, the cold. Marco, Lombardo, Silvius, they were all gone. And Jacob. What was there to say?

Try having your loving, caring, praising, protective father or leader suddenly betray you, and then try to kill you. And not just that, have him assure you of just how much you mean to him MOMENTS before it all goes up in flames! Watch as he accepts payment for you, as if you were a horse or a cow, a piece of property. Have him then, just to make it worse, kill your closest friends right in front of you, and then know, that it was YOUR fault. Promise that you will protect them, then have them die in your arms. Then, as a final blow, LIVE through it. SURVIVE while your loved ones are dead. And know you are not safe, not while your biggest enemy is still alive, looking for you, hunting you.

I shivered at my own morbid thoughts, feeling dizzy from the weight behind them. Then I realized. I was in a bed, in a room, probably in a building. I wasn't in a ditch, and my clothes... I felt myself, and all I was wearing was a nightgown. It was clean, I was clean, but still...

"Where are my clothes?! What happened?! Where am I?!" I almost screamed the words, in a way hoping they wouldn't be answered, for fear of WHO would answer. A door opened, and a man walked in. Before I could see anything about him, I grabbed the closest weapon I could find - a bar of soap - and threw it at his head. My aim was perfect, and it was hard too. The man let out a yelp, before jumping behind the settee across from the bed.

"What do you think you are doing woman?! Stop this immediately! This is a fine way to show gratitude." He peeked out from behind the furniture as I brandished my next weapon, a rather prickly and heavy looking hairbrush. He ducked back into cover as the brush became airborne, hitting just where his head had been the moment before.

"Darn, I missed." I pursed my lips, looking for a better projectile. A tea kettle! A copper one. That would work nicely. I lunged for it, and reached it just as the man reached me, grabbing my wrists, lifting them so I was effectively incapacitated. He held them firmly up, careful not to hurt me as I thrashed like a madwoman. He was taller than me. My wrists were just above my eye level, and at his chest level, so as he was bigger, he was also stronger.

Generally though that's not a problem for me, because I'm not a weak woman. But he was a strong man, and at the moment I was weak from pain and grief, and really only attacking because I was scared, not because I wanted to kill him.

"Madame, please! I am not trying to harm you. Calm yourself, shh, shh, calm down. It's alright, you are safe. Nothing is going to happen, and nothing has. You have nothing to be afraid of now." He spoke reassuringly, his tone soothing and low. It was hypnotic really, and I was more than willing to comply, since I had tired myself out with my little tirade. Plus, if what he said was true, I was being abominably rude.

My body felt limp as I realized belatedly just how weak my body was. That must've been some adrenaline rush, because the next moment I was headed for the floor. Luckily, the man caught me, and gently put me back into the bed.

"Please be careful. We've worked so hard to get you better. It would be a shame if you further injured yourself now, considering all the time spent trying to heal you." I look at him hazily, my vision blurry from being so weak.

"Okay. But what- where- how- I-" He raised his hand to stop me. He walked over to a small table to pour some liquid from the kettle I had attempted to use as a weapon. It looked like tea, and smelled earthy like the herbs we collected and used in my camp. I took a swallow, and it tasted just like the teas I had made for many sick children back home. I looked back at him, hoping for answer to the question ringing in my mind. And no, I still couldn't see really. Plus, it was starting to get dark. So it didn't exactly help my vision much.

"About 4 days ago, I had found you in a ditch on the side of the road. At first I had thought you were dead. But of course you were not, and fortunately for you I found this out. You were suffering from a wound to the head and a devilishly high fever. Thankfully you have recovered from both ok. Though as you and I can both tell, you are still considerably weak. You have a little while to go before you can get a clean bill of health."

I nodded, signaling that I understood his words, before he continued.  
"But Mademoiselle, now let me make a proposition: I feel responsible for you in a way, and I will not leave you on your own in your current state. I don't need to know WHY you were in that ditch, or why you were... dressed... the way you were, right now. But I would like to know if you will allow us to take you along on our trip though France. We are on our way to Spain. Once you are able, you can tell us more about your circumstances and we will do our best to assist you. Will you allow us to help you? If you need time to decide that is fine, though sooner would be better."

I was a bit shocked at my luck! Not only did this man find me and take care of me, but now he was offering the perfect way to stay clear of Jacob for a while. At least for my recovery period. Now I realize what you are thinking: Strange man, strange circumstances, strange offer.

But frankly I wasn't worried. I had faced worse, and if there was trouble it's not like I wouldn't fight it like the devil. Plus, something about this man, I don't know CALMED me. I felt unreasonably safe. It was weird, but I knew better than to not trust my instincts. And anyway, with the condition I was in, I wasn't in the position to be looking out for myself just yet.

I carefully nodded yes. Then to make the point I whispered (for that was all I was capable of): "Yes, please. I would be very grateful. And sorry, I wasn't really trying to hurt you..."

And after that action took the last of my strength, I closed my heavy, almost completely blinded eyes and fell asleep. Knowing I would need it in the morning. But not before a pale beam of moonlight slipped through the dark night, and reflected on the face of the man next to me. His face was white, almost like porcelain. And his eyes... nothing I could think of at that moment could describe their mysterious darkness. In that moment I gazed upon what I knew was perfection. After all, can any vice be found when looking on the face of your savior?

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Yes, for the curious people wondering the man WAS Erik. Or more perfectly described IS Erik. Ah, you don't know it yet, but I feel a large dose of irony coming this way. The path for happiness shall neither be easy nor obvious, but it sure will be fun for me to figure out! Review, for those who review influence history in the making! ;)


	10. Chapter 10

In the words of Linus: "Happiness is a warm puppy." To me, a warm puppy is equivalent to a review! Thank you to those who review, I appreciate it, and I use your feedback CONSTANTLY. :D Here's a new chapter for you, and please don't kill me. Because as my close friend and now-vengeful sister both pointed out (She is still upset over losing Marco. I'm sorry! Destiny's hand halts for no crush. Not even the crush of your kid Sis.): I cannot write more if I am dead, so spare my life, in turn sparing Erik's. :)

So excited because for my birthday my mom got me tickets to Phantom of the Opera on broadway! Totally freaked out and the happy-energy from that generated into another chapter! :D Happy Thanksgiving To All, because we have so much to be thankful for! 3

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Chapter 10

Erik's POV

She looked so peaceful, on the outside. But in her eyes I had seen the truth. This girl had gone through hell and back! And something told me she hadn't completely returned... Her heart was still behind in whatever nightmare she had suffered. Which was natural. But it would make finding out more about her even harder. Because let's face it: if you go around wearing a mask, chances are that you wouldn't be first to volunteer information about yourself.

I turned from the bed and went to pick up the brush and soap she had throw at me. That woman had a strong arm, and I hoped never to be at the receiving end of such skill again! Especially if she ever had a weapon more substantial than a bar of soap. I smiled to myself; she was the strangest woman I had ever met or seen. Now the met part isn't very surprising, considering that I haven't met a lot of women in the first place. But I have seen plenty of strange people, most begin women. Take that Carlotta woman, she wasn't exactly the epitome of all things good and sane. (Especially after I was done with her.)

I walked into the sitting room, carefully sat down in one of the chairs, and tried to finish the book I had been reading. Note: I said TRIED. Nadir looked a me from over the top of his news paper. I glanced at him for a moment, before burying my face back in my novel, a book entitled 'The Mystery of the Yellow Room' by Monsieur Gaston Leroux. A genius of an author; I would have loved to have made his acquaintance. He seemed like the type of man I would get along with quite well.

But at the moment it didn't matter, because Nadir was staring at me so intently, I could almost hear his thoughts. He obviously wanted to know what had happened with my, ah, "little encounter". And I was determined not to satisfy his unending curiosity. But, if you have ever met that agitating man, you will realise just how persistent a man he can be.

"So Erik, what happened? I heard noises coming from in there, not all of them too positive. Mind shedding a little light on the matter for me?" I glared at him once, before returning to my page. It was getting very good, and I really was intrigued, but...

"Erik, if you don't tell me now, when our little friend wakes up I will just have to ask her." My head shot up, unfortunately he had captured my attention. Drat. I hated it when he used fact against me.

"I wonder what she'll say, and possibly what the maids will hear if she recalls how a man burst into her room and-"

"And what, Nadir? I was perfectly in line with my behaviour. I don't appreciate you jumping to such conclusions."

He gave me a very innocent look. "What conclusions? Erik, what DID you do that's making you so nervous? And what do you expect anyway? I have absolutely no premonition as to what transpired behind that door. One can only imagine..." He trailed off, leaving me right where he wanted me. I growled in my throat. Really, he was worse than an old busy-body. Sticking his nose where it darn well didn't belong.

I sighed, "Fine Nadir! But only because I don't want you or anyone else coming up with ludicrous gossip on the matter. What happened was simple:  
I went in to check on her, but she was startled and so in response she hit my head with a projectile. I ducked for cover behind some furniture-"

"She what? She actually hit you Erik? With what?" That man asked too many questions.

"A bar of soap if you must know. It didn't hurt really but the next item -a silver hairbrush - would have done a little more than hurt. Thankfully I dodged it. But next she had lunged for the tea-kettle."

"The copper one? How resourceful! She wasn't grabbing at random after all..." He looked oh-so pleased with himself; he really was enjoying my dilemma. Way too much than was proper, but I continued anyway.

"Yes, well apparently not. But it hardly mattered because I got to her just before she was able to grasp hold of it. I didn't want to hurt her, but it was very necessary to restrain her. So I grabbed her -gently- by the wrists and held them up. She thrashed around but she was obviously running on borrowed strength. I did my best to calm her - reassuring her that she was safe and unharmed, and that no harm was intended towards her -"

"Was that particularly easy, considering your, ah, presence?" I was a little barbed by that comment. I knew he was talking about my mask. I decided to just continue as if he'd never spoken.

"Something I said must have gotten through, because finally she looked up at me. Her eyes looked unfocused and hazy, but her gaze was so intense! She has been through great trouble, and is suffering from a staggering amount of sorrow. It was etched all over her face."

I stopped for a moment to think back to them. They were green, with little flecks of gold that stood out in her wide-eyed stare. It was interesting, the way her eyes spoke clearly how she was feeling. Her gaze was filled with a tangible pain, and some other emotion that shadowed everything not only in her eyes, but in her whole presence. It could have been anger, confusion, or just fear. (That I would not blame her for.) But I think it was grief, and intriguing how much was to be found in eyes so young. Her gaze had not been locked onto anything - she must have still been bleary from being ill so long - but if it had been, it would have been difficult to be under, with emotion that sharp cutting away at your soul...

"Erik?" I awoke from my mild repose, and saw Nadir grinning like a persian cat. He had some thought on his mind I probably would not agree with if I knew what it was. "If you don't mind, I would prefer if you continued with the account, rather than relive or think about it." I scowled with all my being in his direction, and this time he seemed to get the message. He finally realised he had overstepped himself, more than he could even hope to backtrack at this point.

I didn't have a single emotion on my face. It was just blank. But I saw him freeze under my stare, and that was enough to convince me that he was VERY concerned about his well being. As he should be. "Persian, I have been quite patient up until this point. I hate to cut the fun short, but the joke is wearing THIN." I put emphasis on the last word, and like an obedient child he sat still and straight. So I resumed where I left off.

"Then she collapsed. I caught her, placed her back in the bed, pulled the blanket up, and told her about what happened. I offered to bring her with us to Spain; until she is able to be on her own again. She readily agreed, but I will ask her again when she is better recovered, so she may make the choice in a more clear state of mind. Though I do believe that her decision will remain the same. Unless..."

Nadir looked at me, expecting me to finish my statement. Though I suspect he already knew what was coming.

"Nadir, I don't think she saw my mask. And even if she did, she is still unaware of what lies beneath it. Who knows? She may not want to travel with an outcast such as myself. I was a fool to think that she would understand my cause. Of course, that was before her mask came off. But still, it doesn't matter. I wouldn't blame her if she changed her mind. A stranger, offering to take her out of the country, who wears a mask and restrains her with physical force. Ha! No, I think she will change her mind in the morning." For some reason I felt a bit dejected at the thought. Heaven knows why! It's not like I knew her, or even needed her acceptance. I told myself this firmly. After a bit of though, I stated to Nadir:

"If she is well enough in the morning, I would like it if you had breakfast with her. She needs more than tea, broth and milk to sustain her. And I have ulterior motives to this..." The Persian leaned forward, his face rapt with attention. I leaned forward as well so I could speak at a lower volume, with less chance of being heard. I shared my plan, and after Nadir agreed to it, I returned to my book. Though by now my thoughts were quite far from murders and much closer to mysteries. Particularly, the mystery of the girl in the room only a few paces away...

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Ta-Dah! De End! Fin! It's ova! Done! Finis! **dodges flying tea-kettles** Not the end of the story, Sheesh! The chapter, I meant the chapter. :) I love doing this. Sorry, but I do! I was always mad at chapters with cliffhangers, but now I see why everyone writes them, they are so darn fun! :p Next chapter will be up soon! Until then,

May Angels (of music) dance in your head,  
And death only come if in masquerade clothes of red,  
As you dream of Phantoms safe in your bed.

(Wait, Phantoms in your bed? Would they be safe there? According to the knives I keep BY my bed, not for me. But if that's your wish, I'm hoping for you best of luck. You're gonna need it with a wish like that. :P)


	11. Chapter 11

Ach! I just realised that I haven't been disclaiming! So here's a super big one:

I, MusicOverMatter, do not own, nor do I claim ownership to the following:

Phantom of the Opera, the 1990 show, the broadway, or any of the numerous books.

Any characters affiliated with any version of Phantom of the Opera.

Enya, her music, her lyrics, or her divine clothes.

Marseille, or the opera house in Marseille which Erik fictionally and unfairly mocked.

Gypsies. No, I don't own them. Surprised?

I DO own, and claim ownership to the characters, dialogue, clothing, places, and the general plot line of my story. All of which came from my own mind, and are therefore under my control and right to do with whatsoever I see fit.

This includes:

Exposing them to ridicule, sickness, embarrassment, hate, sorrow, pain, love, happiness, confusion, fatigue, high energy, depression, fear, and even death. Along with any other situations and/or emotions I may see fit to create or employ.

Any unlawful or unauthorised use of said literary material, if found, will be mercilessly exorcized from the offending party. To the point of a high possibility of said party losing whatever may be thought rightful for them to lose according to the punishment relevant to their crimes.

Satisfied? I try to be thorough. Now please, enjoy the chapter! You totally earned it if you even bothered to read all that. :)  
(P.S. Thank you to all reviewers! You guys are totally awesome! :D )

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Chapter 11

Rhiannon's POV

I awoke in the morning feeling so well rested; cheery sunlight filtering in through the windows only made me feel better. I stopped to collect my thoughts. I didn't know if choosing to go with the strange man had been a wise decision, and I was even less sure now that I was feeling better.

As I rose from the bed I remembered my current state of dress. Or "undress" as it were. Thankfully one look to the right and I saw a clean dress sitting on the dresser. Though on second thought, thankfully might have been a bit over-exaggerated...

It was yellow, light, and trimmed with a starched white fabric embroidered with little vines and flowers around the neck and arms; The sleeves were puffed at the shoulder, narrowed and went down to the wrist; The bodice was heavily ribbed, lacy, white and about two sizes too small; There were at least SIX petticoats; The stockings were thick and well past the knee; And the shoes had so many buttons you could have held together a whole new wardrobe with them!

It was pretty, and I don't abject to being pretty, but it was spelling out "torture" in at least 50 different ways! I could only stare at it in horror before I remembered that I could just wear MY clothes. I looked around for them. They were not lying out, I couldn't find them in any of the trunks, and I dared not search for them through that other door. Especially since I WAS so sparsely dressed. So I was stuck! I was just about to consider jumping out the window and stealing some clothes from a maid (Or whoever I happened to come across first. I wasn't picky.) when a knock sounded on the door. I grabbed a house-coat laying over a chair and drew it over my body, before calling: "Come in."

An older woman and her assistant came in. The older one had gray hair and blue eyes that sparkled in her old age. Her assistant bore an uncanny resemblance to her. So much so I assumed she was either her daughter or granddaughter. "Good morning to you Mam'! I trust you slept well?" I opened my mouth to answer yes, but I didn't even get a chance to speak.

"Ah! You look so much better if I may say so! You had such terrible ailments, we were afraid you would not make it for a bit. That fever was a nasty one! And that's what happens when a young lady like yourself tries running away from home like that!" I had no idea what she was talking about. Running away from home? Then I realised it was probably the story the other man had given her. So no use trying to correct her now. Besides, did I really want this woman to know who I really was? No. Definitely NO.

"You are very blessed that those two good gentlemen found you and brought you here. For a young girl as good-looking as yourself to be in such a vulnerable position as you were... Oh bless my soul! Who knows? Well, no matter now. Let's get you dressed. Anne! Help me dearie." The girl went over to the dresser and lifted up the dress of a thousand horrors. My eyes grew wide and I threw my hand out in front of me to stop the dress from coming any closer to my mortal being.

"No! It's alright, I don't need that. Just where are my old clothes? I'll be fine with them." The girl looked at me, and then the woman in puzzlement.

"Mom- I mean Sophie. Where are the clothes she's talking about? I'll get them right away." Sophie wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in a dismissive manner.

"What are you talking about you silly girl? We've been given instructions. And besides, after we cleaned the blood off those rags we gave them back to Master Khan." She turned back to me. "Now come here dear, we'll help you get dressed."

I was really starting to get annoyed. You'd think she'd get the message? I didn't want to be shoved into that fabric abomination. Period.

"Uhm... I'm Sorry, but I clearly stated that I would prefer my own clothes. You know? The leather jacket, black shirt, and... Oh you better not have lost my boots! Those boots were expensive to have made I'll have you know!" I was not happy at such a thought. Those boots had taken about three months of hard work to earn. Plus, I had grown rather attached to them over the years, so losing them was not an option I was ready to explore.

The woman Sophie didn't look at all phased by my declaration, though her daughter did look a good bit scandalized. Instead she just shook her head and turned to leave, her daughter Anne following closely behind. "Young Lady, I frankly don't care what you dress like. But apparently there are those who do. Good luck, because I won't be the one to try convincing him otherwise."

"Wait! Who's 'he'?" I called over to her. But she'd already left, leaving me wondering if I'd really chosen the right battle to fight. One glance over at the doom dress told me it DEFINITELY was.

I sat down on the bed for a moment, wondering what to do next. I was a little ashamed of myself for being so stubborn over a dress, but I didn't take orders from anyone. At least not anymore. The ONLY person to ever have that kind of authority over me was Jacob, and now he didn't have it.

"Ugh! I need chocolate. Or coffee. Or even just a lousy piece of bread and butter! I want sugar and carbs, and I want them now!" Non-healthy foods always made me feel better. And right now I felt like a warmed-over tragedy tale. So all I could do was mentally go over my favourite foods, wishing I could have something more than broth for once.

There was talking on the other side of the door. I was guessing it had something to do with me. It didn't sound angry, more like really annoyed. Finally the talking died down and I heard a door open and close a little ways off. For a while things were quiet. Suddenly there was a sharp knock on my door! It caught me off guard and I fell off the bed, hitting my head on the way down and my tailbone once I reached the floor. Oh joy. Rubbing the sore spot on my head I went to the door and opened it.

It was the man from last night, and suddenly I realised why his face had been so pale last night: He was wearing a white mask! It covered his whole face except for his mouth, chin, and eyes. For a moment I was surprised, but I quickly recovered. After all: masks were not out of the ordinary for me. So accepting that he wore one was quite easy; I didn't question even to myself why he wore it! Frankly I didn't care.

"Yes Monsieur? Is there anything I may assist you with?" Note to the wise: Never say 'what can I do for you'. Only someone with less than pure intentions says that when in such a position as myself. I learned an important thing being Black Blood: Say EXACTLY what you mean, and take everything EXACTLY as it's said. Words have power.

He was very unreadable, which is very strange for me because I'm used to being able to read people well. It's kind of important to my job. "Good Morning Mademoiselle. Yes, I believe there is. If you could answer why you are not dressed and ready yet, I would appreciate it very much."

I was a bit shocked he was coming to me about this. First off, it's not all that proper a thing to ask a woman. But then, there's the fact that he doesn't have the right to... to... Demand or... request? Argh! Curse his gentlemanly manner, and asking in such a way that I can't fault him directly! Either way it annoyed me that he asked something so irritating, and then I couldn't call him out on it!

"I believe that's my right to know. Now if it's not too much trouble, I would like my clothes back." He stared at me as if he was confused with my request. Like I'd asked for something silly or stupid.

"Why on earth would I do that? Those clothes are unfit for a woman. I won't force you to dress as a man longer than you already have." Ha! He was acting like he'd just extended a great mercy to me or something.

"So instead you would force me to dress as a china doll? I chose to wear those clothes on my own. I wasn't 'forced' to do anything. And I won't be now."

He was most assuredly not happy now. He calmly stared me down. "I intend to do no such thing! You are going to wear that dress on your own. And for your information: I do not regard you as my property. Thus your insinuation of me treating you like a doll is unfounded. I take no interest in you other than as a poor girl who is bound by unfortunate circumstances."

Of all the nerve! "This dress?" I picked it up by one puffy shoulder. "Why would any woman in her right mind wear this?" I dropped in unceremoniously on the ground. "I may have been sick, hurt, and emotionally compromised. But even then I would have refused to don such a nightmare! I won't do it, and you can't make me." I was a bit hurt by his declaration. Not that I wanted to be considered his property! But I wasn't a poor little charity case.

His eyes started to flicker with fury. "Maybe I will!"

I turned to him and glared, then I bent down a picked up the dress. "Well I'd like to see you try." I held it at arms' length, daring him to take it.

His face (what could be seen) turned a very interesting shade of strawberry red. "Now you are being ridiculous! Just put it on! If you are coming along you need to look like a lady."

I looked his way as innocently as I could muster. "A lady? I thought you were going for circus freak."

His voice rose above speaking level. "I'll have you know that dress is in the latest fashion!"

"Oh really? When's the funeral? I'm dying to go."

He turned away from me to face the wall. I could feel the tension radiating off him, ringing in my ears. Was I afraid? A little. For my escape plan. Otherwise I was angry. And when I'm angry I am hardly thinking about such trifling details such as health and well-being.

He turned to me again. "Alright then, tell me this: Why do you want to wear the leather clothes? I suppose you want the weapons too?"

I froze. What would I say to that? I looked him in the eye; I wasn't going to play his game. "What do you expect? You found me like that. You think I wore that because I was playing dress-up when I got lost from my mamma?"

"Well, MADEMOISELLE!" He stressed sarcastically, "I don't know what YOU expect! You think I'd take you along looking like a demmed gypsy?"

Then it happened: An audible snap, like something cracking in two. I'm not sure if he heard it, but I felt it right in the front of my head.

I don't know how I looked, I don't know how I sounded. All I heard, felt, saw, was cold. Cold like a heated anger. A fist of ice hitting me in the stomach and slamming my head.

"A gypsy?"

I slowly turned my gaze squarely on his.

"That's why my clothing bothers you? It reminds you... Of a gypsy?"

I felt myself moving, yet I didn't register taking any proper steps.

"The mask, the knives, the jacket, they reminded you... Of a GYPSY?

I couldn't see his face, I was blinded by an icy glaze.

"I'll wear the dress. I am going to make a few... Revisions to how it's worn. But I'll put it on, for now."

I could feel my aura starting to affect me, I shivered from my own fury.

"But I'll let you know: a dress won't change the person in it. No amount of jewels or silk will erase my past, it won't mar my legacy..."

My voice started to grow as I spoke, the passion melting away the cold, replaced by fire.

"...because I was born bathed in blood, as all are. But my blood never washed away. No swaddling cloth wiped the stain from me. I am marked by every man by that blood. If 20 years couldn't wipe it away, what do you think a pricy gown will do?"

Then I saw clearly. On the outside he was calmer than a lazy sea, but his eyes showed his own storm. He was furious with me, and I was gleeful at the thought; it only fueled my own passion.

"My blood is tainted to every man, they see me as a living demon. Me AND my people! We have devils among us, as do you! But there are more saints that suffer in our lowly ranks than rot in your 'heavens on earth'!"

I reached my greatest hight, and my loudest voice. "Have you guessed it? I AM A GYPSY! And if that disgusts you than I will not go with you anywhere! I will throw myself at my enemy's feet rather than travel with those who consider me less than a slave."

And there we stood: I was shaking with emotion, he as serene as a ocean after a storm.

Then he bent down, picked up the dress, handed it to me, and walked towards the door. When he reached it, without facing me he said: "Very well. Come, eat something, but let us at least get you to the next town. Talk to Nadir, he will work out the details." With that, as silent as a ghost he left. Leaving me behind, dumbstruck at what had just happened.

But still, one thought crossed my mind, and that was that he didn't have the mar-less face of a savior any more. Though still, it was far from being the face of a devil. So I guess that made him a man. The face of a man.

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That, my dears, was the sound of snapping patience: Years of training and hardening finally cracking under the collective strain and pressure coming from every angle continuously. Just in case it was unclear. :) This was originally going to be a part of another chapter, but certain characters were being FUSSY! (You know who you are... Rhiannon and Erik!) And so it was re-written several times. Believe me: arguments are VERY hard to write! In case you didn't already know. Plus, things changed. Like the argument? It started out as a small disagreement, but apparently my characters don't like to play nice with each other. Oh joy, this will be fun. -_-

Review, authors actually survive by offering reviews to their muses. Where did you think stories came from? Actual thinking? (Ha! If only.)


	12. Chapter 12

Bad news! I left my purse, therefore my iPod, at choir! D: So until Tuesday, I can't even start on chapter 13. So enjoy this, it's gonna be a little while...

Also, big, one-time surprise for this chapter! :) Hope you like it!

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Chapter 12

Erik's POV

I was done! Done with that IMPOSSIBLE woman! Who did she think she was? Oh that's right, a gypsy. A gypsy?! How did I not see it before? The knives, the mask, the over abundance of black leather, it made sense! Kind of.

During the "conversation", I had done my very best to not strangle her. True, in some cases she was right for responding as she did. I'll give her that. And I didn't always give an answer in the greatest tact. Though I do not consider her right.

But the worst part, was that I had argued at all! I mean, arguing about a dress? What had possessed me to do that? I should have just let her go, what did I care if she wore the dress or not? And yet... Something about her compelled me to speak, and in the strangest way I was unashamed for yelling at her. I am of a greater control than this. I'm above it. The only one I argue with is Nadir. Anyone else is corrected or killed; I don't waste words on them. But for once I didn't hide how I felt, or feel concerned about having a sobbing girl on my hands.

On further reflection though, I realised that instead of a sobbing woman, I got Lady Death. In the moments after I made my statement about "looking like a gypsy", she had seemed to transform into the pure personification of wintery death. I could almost see the light bending around her! Still, it was better that she had a back-bone than having her dissolve into an emotional mess on the floor, by far.

"Erik! What happened in there? Did you open a window? It got very cold in here a little after you entered. PLUS I heard yelling. Is everything okay?" I looked over to Nadir sitting at the breakfast table, reading his newspaper.

"Oh nothing. We just argued a bit. Things got complicated, I said something that angered her, she turned into a demon for a good while and then she just confessed about being a gypsy. Nothing worth repeating." Nadir's jaw hung open in what I will assume was a high density of shock.

"By Allah! Is she still alive?! Oh the poor girl! Erik, what did you do to her? You better not have hurt her-"

I shot him a look, shutting him up. "Really Nadir? I'd think you'd have better respect of me than to assume that I'd simply killed her." I suddenly felt very tired, and concerned too. This had gone too far out of hand for my tastes, and everything I did seemed to make the situation worse.

"I'm going out Nadir. Just for a quick repose in nature, nothing more. Continue with breakfast, the girl with probably be out to eat soon. Feed her, get some answers, and get her on her way home. That is, if she has one."  
Cold, I know. But frankly I just wanted this awkwardness to leave. And to do that, the girl would have to leave.

And I won't lie, the main reason I wanted her gone was because she was a gypsy. I won't apologize for being biased; I had my reasons! If it wasn't because of the catastrophe relating to my unfortunate birth, it was from the very lifestyle and reputation allotted to the gypsies. They were thieving, murdering, low-life urchins. They are the ignorant, heartless mass who pollute the earth. It was true, every word she had said. Being born a gypsy was a cruel fate indeed, though hardly crueler than mine.

A fate crueler than mine...

Nadir's POV

Erik truly scared me at times. I know that he is a good, trustworthy friend, but sometimes his scars get the better of him. There are some things that not even the salty sea can wash away, and Erik's past was one of those things.

I sighed, and went back to my paper. The plan was simple: Erik had wanted me to find out more about the girl. I am naturally better for the job, since not only is my nature better for it, but because Erik -though he would never admit it- is too embarrassed to interrogate a girl. Even on a casual level! It's undeniable: his social skills could use some buffing up. But that was besides the point. The old plan was to get her to come along, the new plan -according to Erik's point of view- was to get her out of our lives. Or HIS life, more appropriately.

I looked up as I heard the door creak open. An elegant looking girl stepped out, looking for all the world as cooly mannered as a cat. She was wearing the dress, minus what appeared to be most of the petticoats and the corset. The blue ribboned sunhat in her hand was dropped quite disdainfully on the floor, as she gracefully floated to the breakfast table.

"Good morning, Master Khan." She greeted me surely. Then she sat carefully at the table before taking a sip from a glass of water sitting at her spot.

Puzzled, I asked: "How do you know my last name?" I knew Erik never used it; he never used last names for people among his close acquaintance. So how did she know?

"One of the maids mentioned giving my clothes to a 'Master Khan'. Since it is a name unbefitting to that other man, I simply assumed it belonged to you." She made her deduction offhandedly before reaching carefully for a biscuit from one of the platters closest to her.

I was shocked. This was the hellcat Erik had told me about? This pretty and intelligent young woman was the wild and vicious gypsy? I couldn't believe it. I was determined not to. But then again, Erik never lied; it was one of his better traits. I know he could if he needed to, but he never seemed to feel it was necessary. So I have always trusted that his word was true. So what about this girl? She acted as if she was raised in this society, her manners thus far were impeccable. Was this the behaviour of a rough, uncultured gypsy? Surely not.

Suddenly I felt her eyes on me, almost as if they were peering into my very thoughts. She smiled mischievously, "You're wondering why a common ruffian has such good manners as me, I must presume? Well, contrary to popular belief, I know quite well what is considered 'proper' in this era, and I am quite capable of acting accordingly."

I raised my eyebrows, "You do, do you? Well then, I can guess that my friend's description of you was indeed accurate?" Her face darkened a bit before she replied.

"That would depend on what he said about me. I won't lie to you, Monsieur. I am a gypsy, and there was a reason you found me in the state you did. But I am not the dirty waif that everyone expects me to be. So to answer your question, yes. It was accurate. About as accurate if I said he was a domineering, vile, hateful freak who takes pleasure in mocking others' pain and past."

Point taken. She had a very straight forward way of stating things. "Very much like Erik..." I mused to myself. Probably why their first meeting didn't go so well. They both had sharp tongues and quick wits, and both were filled with passion. It was like expecting two tigers to get along when both have claws and jaws.

She looked sad for a moment, so sad it made the room seem duller, the light darker. Then she looked at me and said gently, "I don't think it would be fair to judge your friend on what happened between us. He has a good heart, if he was willing to save me when I was hurt and alone. But still, I am not willing to excuse his conduct. Not yet. Not after what he said." Before I could even question her on what exactly Erik said, a delighted squeal came from her parted lips as she gazed upon the contents of a newly uncovered tray.

"Is that... German Chocolate CAKE?!" The happiness was dripping from every syllable in that simple sentence. I chuckled as she eyed it with the hunger of... Well, a woman deprived of sweets and carbs for too long!

"Go for it!" I told her with an approving nod, "Eat as much as you want. I'm not one for that intense level of sweet." She looked at me for a moment in shocked confusion. She probably did not understand how someone could not like the dessert she was obviously so fond of. But she quickly digressed and launched herself whole-heartedly into consuming the poor ravished cake. It was a bit... Overwhelming to see how passionately she savored each chocolatey sensation. So much so that I respectfully turned my head to the side for a bit, giving her and the cake some privacy.

At the end she opened her eyes wide in shock, "Oh! I'm so sorry! I know I can get a bit carried... No, a LOT carried away when I eat that particular dessert. I apologize for any disturbing things you may have seen." I just smiled and shook my head in amusement.

"Ah, not to worry! It's good knowing that you've regained your appetite. And besides, you are not even half as bad as one person I know when they get their hands on that same dessert." She smiled, I smiled. And I decided right then and there that I liked her. She was fiery and sharp, and yet she still could be light and happy. And yes, she could be very dark. But her person was one I enjoyed. One I wished we could have around. But, Erik had said no. And there was, unfortunately, no actual reason to have her stay. Sad, but how things were. So I went and started asking her questions that might help us place her correctly.

"So, tell me a little about yourself. What is your name?"

She pursed her lips, appearing to be in deep thought for a moment. Before replying: "I am Rhiannon. And unfortunately I do not possess a last name." Common enough.

"How old are you? Do you happen to live nearby?"

"Well, I am twenty. But as for where I live... Nowhere. Not anymore." She sounded like she was holding something back. Something important. Something that could help bring more of the situation to light.

"Please, Mademoiselle Rhiannon. I know you barely know me, and you have no real reason to trust me. But in order to help you -which I can assure you is my goal- I must know more about you." She still looked unconvinced, though I don't blame her. She probably had a very dark secret, and if what I assumed was correct: she would sooner pierce herself with her own blade than reveal it. But I needed to know. Then an idea hit me.

"Well, If that's how you would like it fine. We can simply drop you off with the authorities at the next town. They will surely help you with whatever issues you have." I poured some coffee for her and myself as she stared at me with a shocked expression. I ignored it and proceeded to drink from my coffee cup.

Silence hung heavy in the air. I hated having to put her in such a hard position, but sometimes in order to get the best, you need to do the worst. Finally she looked me dead in the eye. Her gaze was sharp and cold, and I knew that whatever came out of her mouth next would be dead serious.

"I'll tell you. But let me make one thing perfectly clear to you: and that is who you are dealing with. You are about to make a deal with someone who takes her line of work VERY seriously. ANYTHING goes wrong, and I will make it a personal matter to put you under. DEEP under. I will wake in the morning, and feel nothing. In turn, rest assured knowing that you can lay your head even on the executioner's block, and be as safe as a babe in a basket. Because you will be a concern of mine, and I take good care of things I am concerned about." She leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Despite how it appears, I am a woman of morals. Keep your word, I'll more than keep mine. Break it... And I will break you."

And with that she simply eyed me, watching me like a cat watches a bird. Seeing if I would take flight, or put my life in with hers. Both of us would be at risk. And yet... I couldn't say no. For some reason, even as she sat there, toying with whatever my fate would be, under it all I saw the heart of an honorable person, who valued loyalty and honesty. In a way, it reminded me of how I saw Erik. Even in his worst of moods, I could see the man I knew he was. Maybe that was my talent: seeing the best in very dangerous people.

"Very well. I swear that I will do whatever in my power to assist you. You see, Madame, you are not the only one here with a secret. Come to think of it, I seem to be becoming a keeper of secrets! But unless you give me permission, the particulars will stay between you, me, and Mr. Carrier." She looked at me thoughtfully for a moment.

"Carrier? Is that the name of the other man? I will assume it is. And I'll guess if I would want the first name, I'd have to go right to Monsieur Carrier himself?" She caught on quick.

"Yes, and yes. Now, if you would, your tale has become one I am most anxious to hear."

For a while she just sat there. Drinking her coffee and eating food from the various dishes. Then, she began.

"I will start, by revealing what it is I do. I am a mercenary. An assassin, if you will. Hired by any with a coin purse large enough to blot out the blood spilled. Or, if no blood is required, we acquire items or in rare cases, even people. But for the most part, my job has been to follow orders from my leader, Jacob." A dark shadow passed over her features as she said the name.

"In particular, we had been 'wrapping up' a job the night it happened. Me and a few of my closest colleagues were assigned the task of coming along to ensure a smooth transaction. The job had been to acquire a ring. A signet ring, belonging to a diplomat from Italy."

My eyes opened a bit, for recently throughout the world of traders gossip, it had been said such an item had been stolen. So now I was being told the exact origins of the rumor. "Go on, I do recall such an incident being mentioned. Now, this ring was to be sold to the highest bidder in some black market?"

She snorted in amusement. "No, we don't mess with wholesale. We go directly to those who mean business, and will pay a pretty penny for the right item. Often enough it's specialty merchandise: things that you can't normally buy, even with a king's ransom."

"I see... continue." This was getting interesting, and more dangerous by the moment. I could almost see my treason against the law getting larger and larger.

"That night, it was a routine drop off. Or at least that's what it was supposed to be. Generally, the buyer will come with a few 'peacekeepers' to ensure his interests are protected. We make the trade, receiving the other half of our pay. According to Jacob though, the guy who set up the deal wasn't the one who was ordering it. He had a right-hand who was doing that, and that night there were more 'peacekeepers' then I've ever seen it one place. And they were dressed oddly too, wearing green and black uniforms."

Pain seemed to shoot through her eyes as she relived the event in her mind's eye. She must have been seeing things she hadn't noticed before, and the revelations probably made it worse. "Mademoiselle, are you alright?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Sorry, just thinking. Anyway... I'll cut it to you straight: It was a set-up. All my friends were killed and Jacob himself was the man in the loop. He even tried to kill me himself. How's that for bad luck? The man you trust and look up to, almost as a father, betrays you. Ha! Sounds like a bad novel. But anyway, I escaped, didn't even know what was happening before my horse threw me and galloped off. They guys pursuing me followed my horse and left me in the ditch, where I thought I would die. Apparently not!"

She turned her face towards me again. "Thank you for saving me by the way. No one else would have I can assure you."

"On the contrary, I wasn't the one who even saw you. Monsieur Carrier was. He was the one who insisted bringing you along, and he was the one who figured out you were alive in the first place. If anyone, you should be grateful to him. I just sat there wringing my hands and worrying."

She smiled sadly, "I'm sure you are being unfair to yourself; you must have been a large help."

I thought back to me and Erik's little 'disagreement' over gender change. Of course, I didn't say anything about it.

"Well," She stood up. "That's really all there is to tell. Now: Jacob is probably waiting for my head, and I've no one left in this world. To tell the truth, I had almost hoped to die in that hell-hole. Apparently fate has a different plan..." Grabbing a few things from the table, she turned towards her door. When she got there, before going in she turned and threw me a grateful smile.

I sat at the table, pondering everything I had just heard. One thing was sure though: this girl was NOT going to be leaving us anytime soon. And I had one or two things to talk to Erik about...

* * *

Dun, dun, DUUUUN! Okay! I hope you enjoyed that, because it will probably be the last time I go to Nadir for a point of view. You know the saying, and if you don't, too bad! :) Besides, I don't need another excuse to keep Nadir alive. I MAY need to kill him... 3:}

And in the next chapter, will Erik allow Rhiannon to stay? Even I don't know. It is up to Erik himself. So you guys better hope Nadir has some darn good reasoning up his sleeve, or Rhiannon may be taking a different path. (I never said that she WAS going with them. Ha-Ha-HA!)

By the way, check out my new story, "Dance of Death". It's a story based on Edgar Allan Poe's short story "Masquerade of the Red Death". :) It's good, or so my adoring fan Dowie has told me. (She's my real-life friend, and so gets the special privilege of telling me how good I am first-hand. :D My ego barely fits through the door from her generous contributions!)

Review, it puts Erik in a better mood. ;)


	13. Chapter 13

Okay, I KNOW there are people who want me dead for taking this long to update. But I'm really sorry! I had so much trouble with this chapter! My muses fought me every darn step of the way. And so finally I'm done with this scene! Ha! I feel so free! It's out! I can bury that stupid plot bunny now! So, enjoy this chapter, while I go dance on the grave of said plot bunny. :)

Also, for those who didn't know, I recently posted a one-shot relating to this story. It's called "Besting the Baker" and I highly recommend that you read it. Along with that if you have NOT seen the 1990 Phantom at this point then I suggest you do. Or you may not understand the coming reference. If you don't though it's not like the story will come crashing down around your ignorant head. You just may not get it, a little. :) No pressure!

Disclaim: I may not own Phantom, but you can bet I own everything else here! (Pretty Much) Especially the poetry. Don't even think of ripping off my poetry. :(

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Chapter 13

Erik's POV

I came back some time later that night. It had been refreshing going out on my own into the countryside. As 'The Phantom of the Opera' I had never gotten to go out of doors. I could really only imagine what a real forest would look like. The 'magic forest' was close to ground level, and was actually the buried ruins of an old stone court. It was supplied with light streaming through grooves and cracks, and water from an underground stream. It had given me a decent idea of what the outside world was really like.  
True, I knew Paris inside-out, and I had seen gardens in the richer districts. But Paris, is a city. Not a wildlife preserve. So I had actually never been in nature before meeting Nadir and leading my new life.

It was one of the things I enjoyed most about "being free". Trees do not judge, rocks do not mock, animals do not discern between a "normal man" and one with a mask. In fact, they seem to like me better. Though I do believe it has more to do with my attitude than my facial wear.

Anyway, the walk had done me good. I felt less angry and more calm. It was as if all my previous emotion had left with the sun, and now I was cooled by the gentle moon. I was prepared to listen to what Nadir had learned, and make a decision based on what I heard.

I opened the door, and walked in on Nadir sitting dumbfounded in front of a table with cards on it. He appeared to have been there for a while, and judging by the expression on his face, and the evidence on the table: he had lost a game of cards.

Nadir is very proud of his card-playing skills. In fact the only person to have ever beat him has been myself, and it was never a simple or easy task.

"Could I possibly ask what great battle has been fought here?" I inquired after sitting down in the chair opposite his. He looked up with a forlorn expression in his eyes; he looked like a whipped puppy.

"I don't know how, but that girl beat me 7 rounds straight! And the ones she lost were well fought; not a dull moment or action lacking! Remind me never to play poker with her, she would clean. me. out. She has got to be Nike reincarnate! Only the goddess of victory herself could be so competitive!" I smirked at Nadir's amazed ranting. Someone had enjoyed himself in my absence! I hoped that at least he had gotten something out of their little game. Hopefully information on our little guest, and where exactly she came from.

I didn't have to wait long at all for him to explain everything he knew. When he came to the part about his "little deal", I wasn't happy in the least.

"So now we are stuck with her?"

Nadir gave an exasperated sigh. "Erik, you are looking at it in the wrong way. It was the only way I could get any information out of her! And besides, what she did tell me were things that I am understanding to be bigger than a simple mercenary job..."

If Nadir was insinuating what I though he was, then this was a very serious matter. I really didn't want to get involved with politics, especially if it meant drawing any unwanted attention to myself. But to simply let the matter go unaddressed, was even worse. So I asked Nadir what evidence he had that would make it any of OUR concern.

"Black and Green. Those are the colors described by Rhiannon to belong to the guards of her employer. What other people do these colors belong to?"

I thought for a moment, and then remembered. "You don't mean..."

"No, I don't. That would be too dangerous a presumption without real proof. But he has something to do with it, even if it is not directly."

I nodded my head. This meant only one thing now...

"Well, I guess we are going to Spain, WITH our little guest."

"You mean," Nadir corrected, "Mademoiselle Rhiannon."

I waved him off. "Yes, yes, Nadir. Formalities ensue. But I will have you know now that I am not dealing with her. If we need to keep her safe, fine. If we need to help her, fine. If she happens to be involved in a master plan to take over Europe, fine! But if she wants fashion advice, or has an inkling to go to a copper shop, you can count me out!"

Rhiannon's POV

Of all the people on God's not-so-holy earth, I get stuck with a crazy gypsy-hater who wears a mask and is sarcastic and cynical to no end.

Nadir, of course made it easier. I really liked him. He was observant and factual. He very much reminded me of a detective, the way he deduced things and was down to earth. We were able to talk quite easily to each other, and somehow he kept the peace between me and Monsieur Carrier. A feat, not to be taken lightly.

The morning after I decided to trust Nadir, we left the inn. I had made almost a full recovery. I was still sore, and Nadir told me I could neither ride a horse nor behave ruffly in any way. He also said it would be better not to carry so many weapons, or wear my old clothes.

I came down the stairs wearing the lacy yellow dress (against my will) and there met Monsieur Carrier and Nadir.

Nadir greeted me warmly, asked me how I was, and offered to order me some breakfast if I felt like it. I politely declined his offer, since my stomach was full of more sweets than I dare ever mention aloud.

M. Carrier, however, did not appear to be in such good graces. He was facing away, standing off to the side. When I forced myself to address him, he stiffly nodded his head to me in a gesture of acknowledgement. He obviously hadn't taken the news if our "arrangement" too well. But that didn't matter. This, in essence, was a business deal. And when it's business the only way for me to act is professional. Regardless of the circumstances.

"Well, we'd better get going! It's 4 days by carriage to Spain's border. If we leave now we should get there in time for the Marquis de Alcon's annual jubilee." Nadir gave a pointed look to Monsieur Carrier before offering me his arm. I took it and cast a glance back at Mr. Carrier; He looked annoyed and slightly shocked. I threw a small smile before straightening again as we made our way to the waiting carriage.

As we drove along through the rolling French countryside, I found my thoughts being drawn to a particular subject: Jacob. I went over and over everything. I wasn't mourning over it anymore, I was searching. Searching for the slightest thing that could aid me in figuring out what was going on.

The man... The one who Jacob apparently was going to sell me to. He had acted like that slaughter was just a test of my strength! And I shudder to think what he meant by "employ her skills".

None of it made sense! From the way things sounded, Jacob was there to trade the ring, and me. I am just another pawn, a weapon, a resource. So I was treated as such. But if that was the purpose, why did he try killing me?

I shook myself slightly; it was too much to try figuring out now. And my mind was spinning from confusion. I needed to clear my head...

"My head is a hole where my mind used to be, and a cold stone now rests where my heart's blood did beat.  
It's a cruel world indeed where the fox kills it's kits, when justice and light rot in hell's deepest pits!"  
I quoted aloud. The one thing that I could count on to distract me and entertain me was writing poetry on a whim. I did it all the time, because I had a knack for finding the rhythm in words rather easily. It's one thing I could always count on using to bug Silvius! He would hate it so much when I'd start singing:  
"We're on our way to liberate,  
a vase of jade from Lady Kate.  
A painting rare from Lord Firman,  
a fair young bride for Don Juan!"

It bothered him that I could come up with something for every occasion, so of course I made sure to do it all the more! And so it served double purpose: I got entertained, others got annoyed. Circle of life for you!

"Where did you learn that rhyme? It's a very interesting one. Are you quoting from a play?" Nadir was sitting across from me in the coach, and I was happy he was making an attempt at conversation.

"Actually, I just made it up. It's nothing really; I did it all the time back home. Sometimes I don't even realize I'm doing it!"

Nadir laughed. "Well! It must be an interesting skill to have!"

M. Carrier grunted and replied: "Well it's a pretty useless one if you don't have any musical talent to accompany it." I scowled in his direction. Musical talent indeed! As if he had any authority in the matter. And even if he did that didn't give him the right to degrade me because he had the happy misfortune to not care about getting to actually KNOW other people!

"You have a quick wit though it does not quite fit,  
For insulting a guest is unseemly at best."

He turned his eyes in my direction. They seemed mildly interested, yet they still held that same hypnotic intensity. "Focus girl! Focus! No time for footnotes." I thought quickly to myself.

A small, pitying smile ghosted over his lips. "If I am truly at fault, Madame I confess:  
A lady's honor I consider no less.  
When I see one next I will treat her as such,  
Not that it would really be asking of much." Then he turned just as disdainfully to the window. I sat in shock for a moment; he'd insulted and one up'ed me in one blow! Not something I would take sitting down...

"How blessed I am to know such a kind soul,  
And then besides Master Khan there is Monsieur Troll,  
Who thinks he's quite funny, witty and droll."

Nadir was doing his very best to keep a straight face, though the mirth in his eyes was not easily hid. Mr. Carrier unfortunately looked more irritated than insulted. But that was still a pretty good reaction!

"What a shame for me to have quarreled like this,  
Since you are obviously not that bright of a miss."

He cocked his head before he continued,

"In fact I'm surprised you know anything,  
You're just a child who's lost and running,  
Young, ignorant and blindly hiding."

I could feel the blood pumping hotter in my veins. Young? Ignorant? I was sick of him making assumptions on my life like he knew me or something! He knew NOTHING of my loss. He knew nothing about the life I had led. He couldn't understand what it was like to be alone in a room full of people, how it felt to cry out as loud as you could and no one hear you. He was a stupid, pompous rich man who didn't even comprehend the meaning of hunger or pain.

"Well with all the wisdom you've acquired you must be ancient!  
Though with all your years you've not gained any patience.  
What a shame..."

He turned sharply to face me. Oh so someone was touchy about their age! Well fancy that.

"How dare yo-"

I stood up and stopped him before he could continue. It was difficult considering that we were in a carriage but I had too much pride to just sit down. I'd make my point no matter what.

"No, how dare YOU, you stupid twit!  
For a total stranger you have a quick wit.

Your tongue precedes you to cut and to bruise,  
Your speech to hurt and your words to abuse,  
You've mocked me, shamed me, you crassly accuse,  
To take anymore, I darn well refuse!"

He made a motion as to grab my arm, but I had seen it coming and was ready. I pulled a short blade out from that ridiculous bodice and held it just under his eye. Any higher, or if I pushed where I was, and it would not only be painful, but it would cause a considerable amount of damage to his sight.

Breathing was the only sound that could he heard in the carriage now. Poor Nadir was quite shocked and confused, and staring with what I assume was absolute worry at our, um... awkward position. I mean, I was practically on top of him, and his hand was still latched around my other arm. It wasn't an incident I would be boasting or talking about later. If I even could talk about it later.

"Monsieur, Patron of my journey you may be,  
Yet I will make this clear:  
You have no power over me."

We locked eyes, and it was hard. He didn't look afraid. In fact he looked like he was really the one with the upper hand! And yet he was still the one with a knife in his face and a gypsy threatening him. I'd give him this much: he wasn't easily intimidated. And I guess I could respect that.

And as soon as I came to this revelation, something changed. I saw something that I hadn't before. It changed, his eyes, an understanding flashed between us. Cruel as he could be, he was a worthy opponent. He wasn't a priggish boy trying to establish his place, he was a man who had earned it.

With this, I lost the urge to fight. And with no reason to fight I lowered my knife, and then made my way back to my seat. I sat there, pondering what had happened. But no thoughts came, and so I sat there only seeing his face in my mind. Never had I met someone like him. I knew it was impossible for him to understand me and my pain, but somehow, I felt in a way he did. Or that someday he could.

Lost in this thought, I felt myself drift off. Losing the world around, as I dreamed of feeling not like I was alone, but that somewhere, someone else felt like me too. A link that kept me from truly being alone, as I had always believed I was.

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And that was chapter 13! :D Yay! No, I don't care if it does or does not take 4 days to reach Spain by carriage. My story, my creative license. Deal with it. :p

And for those who did not read the top author's note (shame on you.), the one-shot I wrote- "Besting the Baker"-is something I recommend highly that you read. Since it is related to this story. :) You are welcome.

And so off to work on chapter 14! (After I finish my homework) Ah, the joys of being home-schooled. You can take so much more time out of your day for stuff like writing, drawing, reading, mindless internet surfing. And so I take my leave! Til' next time! And do please review, and seriously, thank you for those who did/do. I feel so warm and fluffy (and creative. Hint. Hint.) when I read all your lovely reviews!


	14. Chapter 14

Hello all my wonderful readers! Yes, I'm back now. Thank you everyone for letting me take this break. I needed it. I'm sorry for not responding to messages or reading stories. I literally ignored all FanFiction messages I got. And really I did because other than a few emails from close friends I ignored all mail I got in my inbox. I'm not singling anyone out. But I think I'm in a better state now so here we go again!

Special thanks to PaperbackWriter318! Your message came to me before I stopped FanFiction and it made me feel so much better. :) Thank you. And sorry about all the chapters I missed! I'm going to go read them now! ;) Anyone who doesn't know, Paperback has a wonderful Phantom story entitled "Constant Angel". I recommend you all read it, it's truly a great story I've enjoyed reading!

One more thing:  
Because this is fanfiction, I'm taking some liberty with the political and economic state of Spain at the time. I'll probably be doing it with other countries too. Just saying it now, though you guys probably aren't concerned about that anyway. If you are, my apologies.

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Chapter 14

Erik's POV

Spain: Land of color and culture. Home to a people passionate about their way of life. Their music, their dancing, their food, everything about them a celebration of life, of joy. It was a refreshing place I enjoyed visiting. The people were kind and hospitable, and everything about that land pulsed with a rhythm forever young, yet ever ancient.

Ah yes, nothing could exhaust my enjoyment of a visit there. Except, maybe a certain liability we'd picked up along the way...

"Erik, what is wrong? You don't look to be in good spirits." Nadir and I were sitting on the open-air sitting room on the second story of the inn we were staying at. The trip to Spain was over and had been pretty uneventful after my spat with the girl. Uneventful, but tedious at best.

I sighed at Nadir's obvious observation. But I knew it was his polite way of saying he knew what was wrong but he wanted me to come out with it first. "Well Nadir, I'm not. In fact I've felt this was for a while now."

Nadir hmm'd in response before speaking. "Could it have something to do with the disagreement you had with Mademoiselle Rhiannon a few days ago?"

I couldn't help what came next as I stood up and started pacing.  
"How such a woman could possibly exist in this world is beyond me. She takes everything so seriously! If I was rude in my address to her than so be it! My life was perfectly fine before she came along and disrupted it! She is always a contentious girl and she is never civil to me at all!"

Nadir put aside his paper and turned his full attention on me. "Well Erik, have you ever given her a reason to do otherwise?"

I stopped my pacing to stare at him. "What do you mean Dardoga?"

"I mean, Erik..." He stood and walked over to me. "...That while you may be justified in your thinking to some extent, you are forgetting exactly who she is. Or better yet, you remember it all too well. You see her as just a gypsy and nothing more. A bother, a pain, an encumbrance. What I see is a girl who lost everything. Who just experienced what I'll wager was the lowest point ever in her life, and at every turn all you do is remind her of just how low she is to you."

I lowered my head. He didn't understand! This wasn't about her being a gypsy! To an extent maybe but that wasn't why I felt this way.

"Erik... I know you are better than this. Please, I know she may be quick to defend and quick to attack. I agree she was acting rashly when she put a knife to your head. But with how she has probably lived and the extreme circumstances she is living under, I'm very astonished she HAS held up so well. But hurting her isn't going to help the matter. She is bright and intelligent, she is very civil, and I'm sure that you would get along better if you just both put down your prejudices for a little while."

Well what could I say to that? Nothing I guess. I was just so tired, I couldn't help but feel as if I was caving under the pressure of some invisible force. It wasn't the gypsy girl making me feel this way. In fact, for just a moment before she pulled her knife away and sat down, I had felt some sort of understanding pass between us. I had seen a respect glimmer in her eyes for a moment, and for some reason I felt the same for her. If only for the fact that she had laid down her rightful vengeance in the name of something she certainly didn't own me. But after that she had just stared off into the distance out of the carriage window for the whole trip. She was silent at meals and only spoke to Nadir when he asked a question. Really she had been a model of silence and politeness on our journey here after the argument.

No, what was making me feel this way was something else. Something I still had not conquered.

Nadir had come closer while I was in my silent revere, and was now leaning against the balcony next to me. "So, what now Erik?" I turned to him in confusement.

"What now? I fail to understand your meaning." Nadir gave me a look that basically said: "you-darn-well-know-what-I'm-talking-about-don't-you-dare-play-dumb-it-doesn't-become-you"

I laughed, "Okay Nadir, okay! Then I suppose I shall have to get on better terms with Miss Rhiannon. You are right, she is too bright to be ignored and certainly too talented. Plus of course she factors so strongly into the little mystery we've uncovered, I dare say she may be the only person capable of bringing us so close to the heart of the action."

My face grew more serious as the thoughts of the suspected plot crossed my mind. "Now that we know something is going on, we can't just put it aside. Especially since it may affect us and our business later."

Nadir nodded in agreement with me, then stared at me as if expecting something. We stood there as I tried to pretend I didn't notice. I knew what he was getting at, and was not in the mood to deal with it. But let's all face it: eventually I just threw my hands up and exclaimed: "Fine Nadir! I'm going so you can just stop that now."

I walked towards the door before stopping and turning around to point at Nadir and in my most serious voice say: "And Persian, don't you dare even think of interfering. I do not invite you to make comment or to 'handle' anything. I am a grown man and I don't need you coming and complicating things."

Nadir snorted. "Oh yes, because there is nothing complicated about a stubborn ex-opera ghost and a female gypsy mercenary resolving their heated and angsty personal issues with each other in the first place."

Rhiannon's POV

"One hundred sixty-seven, one hundred sixty-eight, one hundred sixty-nine, one hundred se-" My door opened and I lost concentration. With an "oh-snap" look on my face I fell from my oh-so-precarious position atop the coffee table onto the not-so-forgiving floor.

"Darn it, who are you and what the heck do you want?" Rubbing the now throbbing part of my head and one arm clutching my sore and tender abdomen, with vengeance sizzling on my tongue I sought out the source of my current agony.

When I found it, the vengeance I had held so sweet went bitter as I discovered that the source of my pain was none other than Monsieur Carrier himself. "Good Evening, Monsieur Carrier. May I ask what your business here is?" I said it as cooly as possible, and hoped he could feel the ice.

He winced a little, before he composed himself. "Good Evening, Mademoiselle Rhiannon. I have come to speak with you about something important." He cocked his head. "But first, would you please tell me why you were doing a hand-stand on the coffee table?"

I glanced around. Frankly I didn't want to tell him, and rightly so! He didn't deserve an explanation. Not after the way he treated me. But...

"If you must know..." I sighed, "...I wasn't just doing a hand-stand. I was doing a vertical push-up."

He quirked an eyebrow at me; I don't think he believed a word I'd said. In fact his face seemed to scream: "Yeah, right. And I'm the King of France."

For some reason that bothered me. No, it more than bothered me, it made me mad! Why? Your guess is as good as mine. I guess I just hated being undermined. Or maybe I resented someone doubting I was telling the truth. Whatever the case may be I was ready to rub the truth in his disbelieving face!

With that pleasant thought in mind I turned on my heel to face the coffee table. Hands above my head, my back arching gracefully, I readied myself for the coming movement. I closed my eyes and surrendered my body to the action that had become as natural to me as walking was. Flipping forward my frame was turned topsy-turvy as I balanced all my weight atop my arms and shoulders. Straight as a switch-blade I "stood" for a few moments. Then, as if it was so very easy to do I began to bend my elbows up and down, performing what was pretty much a vertical push-up.

I did a few perfect ones, then I slowly and with the flexibility of a snake backflipped into a standing position. I pinned him with a defiant glare that proved that I wasn't going to take anything lying down. I hoped he'd finally get that through his thick skull, because it was getting bothersome to keep teaching him.

And yet, he didn't seem that impressed. A lazy, calculating expression sat squarely on his features. I was of course irritated, but what was I supposed to do? Demand he be awed by my amazing abilities of flexibility and strength? Ha- no. "Very good, Miss Rhiannon. I daresay I am almost impressed!"

I scowled at him. The nerve! As if he could do any better! Like me or not, he wasn't in a position to be degrading my skills. Jerk. "Well than, MONSIEUR, what keeps you from being so?"

His lips curled into a positively infuriating smirk. I wanted to whack it off his stupid face! Unfortunately what came next very much prevented me from doing so.

With so little effort he brushed past me to stand at the foot of the bed, then he sprang up to grab the banister hanging over it. He swung himself around it a few times before he went flipping through the air, landing hands first on the coffee table. Or, hand first. With one arm he pumped up and down three times, before pushing off and neatly landing on the other side, looking for all the world as if the most he'd done was briskly walk from one end of the room to the other, with every bit of elegance and composure.

Shocked didn't cover it. Flustered was not the word. Shell-shocked was a weak comparison and embarrassed seemed too mild a summery. I was ashamed, angry, ready to melt into the floor or throw myself off the balcony. I couldn't even face him. How could he do that to me?! I crossed my arms and faced away. "Well if mocking me was all you came to do than I think it's time you left. You've made your point so don't bother kicking a puppy on the way out, I'm sure the lords of darkness will be pleased enough with you." It was weak, but my sarcasm was all I had now. Darn it if I didn't feel defeated!

"Rhiannon." His warm voice broke my angry concentration and I turned to look at him. It was dark now, and the blazing fireplace behind him framed him in a burning glow, casting dark, mysterious shadows over his powerful form. His eyes seemed to almost glow as they passed over me. I felt a shiver come up my spine, but I repressed it. Instead I stubbornly faced him full on, my legs in a strong stance, my arms crossed taunt across my chest, chin defiantly up, daring him to beat me down again.

He didn't though; instead his gaze softened. I didn't feel attacked, but for some reason I didn't feel any more comfortable. In fact this feeling was even worse than the last one! Darn him! He was constantly turning my world upside down. I didn't like it.

"Let's face it: we're both too stubborn and too proud to actually get along like proper ladies and gentlemen. You know it and I know it. We've both been wrong. But the way I've treated you... Has been unfair." My jaw felt a little slack, and my eyes widened. Was he apologizing?

"I'm not claiming to understand, nor am I trying to insult you. But I realize that if your story is true, than I've been acting like an utter demon in your living hell. Despite this, I am sorry. Sorry for what has happened to you. And... I want to help you."  
He had turned to the side and walked across the front of the fireplace several times during his declaration. And now he was leaning up against it, head turned towards the licking, leaping flames.

I couldn't help feeling a little skeptical. After all, in the past it's what has kept me safest. So far, ignoring this has only brought me trouble. But...

"How exactly do you plan on helping me?" I cocked my hips and made sure that my face was as distrusting as I felt.

His face turned to me once more, and the look on his face actually sent a shudder up my spine. It was dark and sinister. And with the light moving the way it was, his face looked like a gleaming skull without eyes. Plus, the feral grin wasn't making me feel much better either. "By getting revenge."

The bitter way he said it was frightening. But, why? I've been in the revenge business for a long time. Hired Assassins? They tend to play Angels of Justice more often than not. However, I still wasn't sure.

He must have expected this, and he turned to me with a calmer countenance. "Think about it, for a moment. What happened wasn't just a blow-by betrayal. This was planned, for who knows how long. In fact it's probably even bigger than whatever was going to happen that night; bigger than simply selling or killing you." I let that sink in. If I knew anything about Jacob, it was that nothing he did was without a larger motive.

He must have seen me thinking and somehow guessed my thoughts, because the next words struck me in a way I can't forget. "Whatever was planned, it was done with bigger goals in mind. You were just a pawn, and now you are the key to getting back in the game. And believe me, I think this game is one you will want to be in on."

Pawn; Being used; Taken advantage of. I hated the very though of being anyone's plaything! I needed to hear more. I turned to him. "Why?"

"Because," He said. "If I'm right, the end results of this will affect much more than just a ring of underground assassins. It will affect those working in the light as well. Either way it is not a matter to be taken lightly."

His face went from serious to slightly sarcastic. "And here's where we come to the part where we say what exactly I gain from all this. I'll wager that 'concerned citizen' doesn't cut it for you. Well then here's the cut: I'm a businessman. Whatever is going on may have a negative take on my interests. And that, is something I don't want happening."

He faced me head on, pinning me down with his dark burning eyes. "If you aren't fond of the thought of us being kindred souls bonded by a heartfelt desire to aid one another, then see it the way it is: a deal. It's just a job, nothing more. And if you keep your side floating I'll keep mine. You'll walk away with the sweet blood of vengeance and I'll walk away with a threat to my personal happiness nullified. We both end up happy. Otherwise, I can dump your butt now and we'll part ways as unlikely acquaintances. Speak now."

Was I ready for this? It sounded like it would be more than just a quick partnership. I would be committed body and soul to finishing the job. And who knows how long that would take? But... Looking at him, I could tell he would be committed too. And that this was no light matter for him. Really he wasn't as bad as he had made himself out to be. And after all, he had done something I'd almost never seen a man do. He apologised, and admitted to being wrong. Men are so full of themselves, and even if they aren't, apologising to a WOMAN is an ego blow most guys aren't man enough to stomach. So despite being the prideful, brooding, overbearing man that he was...

"Alright. I believe you. May the past lay in the past. I forgive you, and I'm sorry for my own behavior. And let that be the end of it! My Ally." I extended my left arm to him. He looked down at it and flashed me a confused expression.

"Give me your arm. No, the left one." He did so. I latched my hand around the upper part of his forearm, and made his hand do the same. The insides of our arms faced each other. I looked at him. "This is a symbol of alliance. An agreement between two people for a union of mind and heart. A vein in your left arm leads directly to your heart. Among my people, it is a sign that we have agreed to be friends, and to aid each other in any time of need. One may never harm the other. Otherwise they say a curse will strike your heart. I promise to aid you. However, know that this bond may be broken. If you betray me I am no longer held to any promise I have made with you. Understood?"

He looked back to my face and gripped tighter. "Yes." For a moment we simply stood. It felt strange to be allowing this to happen between us. But if nothing else, if I had needed to, I would have made a deal with the fae* to get my vengeance. "Don't worry, my brothers." I thought. "Your blood will not lie unavenged. I will cleanse their sins with their own blood. If I must plunge a knife to my own heart to do it, I will not rest until your souls rest in peace."

* * *

*In Rhiannon's culture (she's an Irish gypsy. So what if they were in France at the time?) the fae were and are to this day considered untrustworthy. It is believed they love to play tricks and make deals with humans, who never benefitted from it in the end. A great and bitter mistrust lies between the people and the fae. For Rhiannon to say this, means that she would be willing to make a deal with someone considered far worse than the devil! How's that for hate?

And for those wondering, Rhiannon was NOT wearing a dress when she did the hand-stand push-up.

Sickos! She was wearing pants. Thank you very much, Awesomeness. I can't believe you even said that thing about "Is she wearing a dress while doing that?" I mean come on! "Oh no I just love adding lemons inconspicuously wherever I can!" **-SARCASM** I thought you knew me better than that... :,(

Reviews anyone? I've been harassed almost endlessly for this chapter, I think a few thoughts from you all would be a trifle thing to ask. :)


	15. Chapter 15

PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!

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Erik's POV

"Look, I was more than fair this time concerning this matter. I didn't play a single role in the selection of your attire and so I find it utterly unfair that I am the one blamed for your dislike of the latest fashions!" I didn't know why, but somehow it seemed that we couldn't go a single day without a conflict of some sort. Today that conflict involved Nadir's unfortunate gown selection. The yellow brocade was covered in a paisley pattern of forest green, and had a full-boned bodice with a green silk sash gathered over the bust line. The green sleeves were slashed with gold-tone beads scattered in a stitch-work pattern that surrounded the slits of yellow fabric peeking through. The accompanying headdress was a swath of green silk entwined with strands of gold and aqua beads, which brought out the blue in her eyes. Beautiful, you might say, and perfectly appropriate for a ball. However, upon seeing it the gir- Rhiannon, had looked ready to stuff the next person she got her hands on into the dress. Or at least something that could count as a equivalent level of disgrace and discomfort when placed upon a male form. I, for one, did not wish to be that person. But she had it in her head that it was in some way or another my fault.

"I already told you! I am not here to play aristocratic dress-up! I'm here to get Jacob. And going to a stupid party doesn't sound like it's going to accomplish that." Good lord she could be so annoying! Well it didn't matter now sitting in the carriage on the way to the ball. Nadir of course had accompanied us, though personally I think he was doing it more to keep us from being at each others throats too much.

"Look- Rhiannon. This isn't just any ball. It's the annual autumn ball hosted by Lord Montrell. Besides being one of the highlights of Spain's aristocratic social calendar, and the fact that we are OBLIGATED to go if we desire to retain any social status relating to having good business, there is the simple fact that a ball is the best place to catch up on the latest gossip."

She made a disgusted face and turned away with her arms crossed. Did I have to explain EVERYTHING to her?!

"Of course, gossip includes the latest news of things going on in the trade world, the social world, the political world, the scientific world, and the religious world. It includes things about Spain, France, Italy, England, India, Germany, Greece, Cuba, the Caribbean, and America. If it can be talked about you'll hear about it. So tell me: why should we NOT go to the ball? No tell me! I'm anxious to know what learned answer you in your infinite knowledge about the higher class have come up with."

Maybe I went too far. The glare I received said so, but while I may have agreed to align with her for the greater good, I had no intention of bowing to any of her childish impulsiveness and stubborn ignorance.

We sat uncomfortably in the carriage amidst the stifling silence for a while before Nadir spoke up. "So Rhiannon, is there anything you would like to know about the event we are attending?" Translation: I know you've probably never been to a ball before; would you like me to give you a quick guide-through on what to expect and do?

She fixed her cold glare on me for a moment longer before turning to Nadir and responding. "Just tell me which ones to kiss up to and I'll be fine. Working a party like this is chump change. Don't worry; I'll try not to embarrass you too much..." She turned to me and emphasized her next word, "...NADIR."

Was that a challenge? Oh who cared! I turned to the window as flippantly and carelessly as possible. If she tried anything funny, promise or not I would punish her for her offending crime.

The night air was pleasantly cool. Not cold, but whispering the promise of fall. The trees were just starting to shift their colors and looked as if drops of gold and orange had nestled themselves in the leafy branches. Which looked even more brilliant as the rays of the setting sun illuminated against the forest, which seemed as if it was starting to catch on fire with patches of the warm hues of autumn showing themselves boldly amongst the fading greenery.

We approached the grand home of Lord Montrell, which by the twirling lights in the window, you could tell the party was in full swing. Nadir got out of the carriage first and helped Rhiannon down, then I followed behind.

We followed the servant who lead us to the entrance of the ballroom. The doors opened, and we stepped into the splendid party. The room itself was very fine. The walls were covered with a fresh wallpaper the color of virgin olives, while the floors were made up with a pale colored tile no doubt from the quarries in Carrara. At that moment it was decorated with hues of dark green, wine red, warm orange, fiery yellow, and royal purple. Fabrics in these colors were hung on the walls and across the ceiling. While curtains of the same material were used to section off areas to be used as alcoves. Gold accents were used everywhere in many different forms; shapes representing boughs of grain and burning suns, tassels and fringes dancing with movement.

Tables were laid out with bunches of grapes red, green and purple, both dark and light. They boasted of the juiciest apples, the roundest pears, the ripest berries and the sweetest melons. Vegetables were cooked and served every delicious way imaginable, and fresh breads both sweet and savory were plenty abundant.

And in the center, atop a pedestal surrounded by the fruits of harvest, stood a carved likeness of the goddess of the harvest, Demeter. Watching over the festivities as patroness of the feast.

It was almost impressive.

However it was still nothing more than an annual ball, an event which took place every year. To be too much amazed would be the mark of a simpleton indeed. Though to not be impressed upon at all would be that also. But really, did it matter?

I looked over to Rhiannon to try gauging her reaction, but the disinterested and passive look gave me no such hint. Either that or she really was not that impressed. Nadir had a pleased look about him and appeared to have a merry disposition at the moment. Lucky for him, because his companions were obviously not so. I hoped his joviality would make up for my lack, as we made our way forward to greet the master of the house, Lord Montrell.

Lord Montrell was a middle aged man of noble descent, a prominent figure despite his lower rank as a Lord. His abilities and reputation in Spanish and French trade made him the center and source of trade economics for that region. If your reputation with him was good, it was more reputable with other tradesmen and distributers. A good reputation is what makes a good merchant, and Lord Montrell knew this best of all.

My knowledge and opinion of him was that he was a very simple and honest man. He saw things one way and took them that way. He could smell a bad deal a mile away, and he could sense a bad character too. Of course, this was double sided for him. On one hand it meant he was a great business man to deal with since he was honest and helpful to those he trusted. On the other, all it would take would be a very little to deceive him.

I smiled and bowed civilly as we stood before him. "My Lord, I hope you are doing well this evening."

He bowed in response and replied. "Well I should hope so! Amongst such gaiety who could find it in themselves to be otherwise? It is good to see you my friend, and you as well Nadir! I hope you haven't been working your partner too hard."

Nadir also smiled and bowed as he responded: "With Erik, I hardly think there is such a thing, my lord. But we have been getting along fine, and finer now that we have the pleasure of your good company."

Lord Montrell laughed good-heartedly. "Splendid! Splendid indeed!" At this moment he seemed to notice that we were not alone. "And who might this fine young lady be? I do not believe I have had the pleasure of making her acquaintance."

Nadir stepped forward. "Indeed you have not. My Lord this is Lady Rhiannon. A good friend of ours who has agreed to travel with us for the season. She has not travelled much and we asked her if she would allow us to bring her along for the winter months. In fact this is her first time abroad and so she has no acquaintances other than ourselves."

Lord Montrell listened with an interested face, since we were her travelling companions he could assume her to be reputable, otherwise we never would have brought her to such an event. With social formalities out of the way it was time for him to test her character.

"Lady Rhiannon, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I hope you will find the festivities to your liking."

Rhiannon gently lowered herself into a perfect curtsy. "While my lowly opinion would hardly matter, I must say that the world you have created is thoroughly enchanted. It is beyond anything I have seen. However..." She looked up with innocent, imploring eyes. "...I hope my unannounced presence here has not offended my lord." Her voice seemed to tremble ever so delicately, the token of an angelic-like quality so highly prized in women.

In an instant his demeanor changed and he gently placed a hand on her shoulder and grasped her hand, lifting her from her humble position. "Not at all dear girl. I am always imploring Erik and Nadir to bring friends along. It pleases me quite well that they have finally heeded my suggestions! Please, come enjoy the party! We have dancers who will be coming out soon and it would be a shame if you missed them. If you would allow me to escort you, Erik and Nadir to the head table with me. I believe we have a few empty seats there that would suit you very well indeed..." And with that he took her arm in his and lead us to the table directly across from the grand statue of Demeter.

Spare seats indeed. He lead us right to the head of the table and sat us next to him. I hoped that the seats had not previously been taken, or some folks among the company would be quite jaded towards us. Rhiannon kept up her remarkable transition to fresh and pretty maiden. And Montrell bought into it. As I said, a little perfect deception, and he had invited both a murderer and an assassin into his midst. He was a good source, but I never relied too heavily upon him or his "good opinion", and this only confirmed it.

The dancers came on, costumed to represent the handmaidens of Demeter. They leapt and twirled around the goddess, colored scarves waving above their heads. Then more came forward, holding cornucopias filled with red rose petals. They intermingled with the scarf dancers, lifting their baskets in the air. The music pulsed with a life of it's own, the dark tones of cello and drums creating a beautiful scene. (*) Finally as the dance came to a crescendo, the cornucopia dancers started to toss their petals upon the carving, into the air, and on the delighted audience. As the music came to a close, the room burst into applause. The dancers all took their bows, and gracefully skipped out of the room.

"Ah! Magnificent! The perfect thing to add to my ball. I hope you would agree, Señorita Rhiannon?" Rhiannon had a faraway, glassy look to her eyes, but quickly snapped out of it upon the Lord's question.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Very fine dancers. However I thought possibly the cornucopia girls could have put down their props so they could add more to their routine. Maybe some floor movements to bring variety. But that's only me being picky. I truly thought it was wonderful."

Montrell looked confused for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Well aren't you the honest one! Most people would have just agreed and lavished praise whether it deserved it or not. But you my lady, have truly shown taste with your statement. I commend you for your willingness to display the truth. And in fact I agree! Next year I'll make sure they show more technique with the dance." He rose and offered Rhiannon his arm, which she accepted as he took her to be introduced to a few friends of his not too far off. I was a little shocked. She was taking big risks, and yet she seemed to be pulling him deeper and deeper into this character she had created for him. Truly masterful work. I had to give her credit for that.

"Nadir, what do you think of our little actress here?"

Nadir was clapping for the departing dancers. "Oh? I'm sorry Erik, did you say something?" I groaned inwardly.

"Nadir. Be serious. Have you noticed the remarkable change in our gypsy girl? Before she was as impudent and tart as a child, now she has transformed into an amiable, charming lady!"

Nadir looked at me seriously. "What do you mean Erik? Has she not alway been such? Just because you anger her and get on her bad side does not make her any less a lady."

I turned away annoyed from the Persian to face where Rhiannon and Montrell were standing, talking and laughing with a small group in the middle of the dance floor. They looked like they had been friends for years, acting oh-so friendly towards each other.

Nadir spoke to me as I observed this little scene. "Or could it be you are jealous of Mademoiselle's affections toward another man? Where with you she has barely gotten along."

I turned swiftly to the offending Dardoga. "Good Lord, where did such a ridiculous though come from? I have it in good mind to have you examined Nadir! All that time at sea has surely not done you good."

I glanced over at the ballroom floor again. "Speaking of which, I do believe it is time to stop this nonsense before that girl trips up herself and is revealed. The last thing we need is suspicion from that light-headed lord."

I left Nadir behind me chuckling like some deranged madman. He surely had too much to drink, and when we got back he would be hearing from me about it.

Just as I reached Rhiannon's side, the music changed and turned to a more seducing tempo, hinting with dark undertones and quick changes. Dancing music. Montrell turned to see me next to Rhiannon. "Erik! How fortunate you are here. Come! You must dance with this fine young lady. Don't worry I have a partner so you two just enjoy yourselves."

A slightly panicked look came on Rhiannon's face. "Oh no that's okay! I am not inclined to dance this evening."

Montrell looked slightly baffled. "Nonsense! Why go to a ball if you do not intend to dance? My dear if you are worried about offending me than I pray you would not be so! Erik brought you here, it would only be right that he be your partner. We may dance later if you like." And with a brilliant smile he turned to a blond woman whom he lead to a place on the floor. Assumably the partner he had mentioned.

I stood there stiff and annoyed. Wonderful! Now I had to dance with her. Rhiannon acted the same way; at least she wasn't pleased about this either, that was my one comfort. I turned and bowed. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

Rhiannon's POV

"You may." I didn't even look at him. This was all his fault! I was doing fine. Lord Montrell had introduced me to a few colleagues of his, and so far I had gathered that there had been a little trouble in the trader's world recently. A few land raids here and there. Presumably nothing to be worried about, probably just a few obscure incidents.

But I knew Jacob, and this had him written all over it. These people had no idea they were being moved in on, from both angles no less. I continued the sweet innocent girl act, but kept interested enough to keep the conversation flowing in that direction. Lord Montrell seemed quite intrigued by me, and that was all I needed. It was simple really. All you need to do is believe you own lie enough that others believe it too. And have an anchor. Something that reminds you who you really are, something to draw you back.

"Rhiannon" A soft woman's voice echoed. I knew that voice, it was hers. It reminded me that I wasn't an innocent girl travelling for the first time, dewy eyed and amazed by the world. I looked around; they were all so simple, yet in a way I envied them. Especially the younger ones. They didn't actually know how cruel the world was. They were something I could never hope to be.

"Erik! How fortunate you are here. Come! You must dance with this fine young lady. Don't worry I have a partner so you two just enjoy yourselves."

No! No, no, NO! I needed more time, more information. And of course, dancing with the ice-for-heart was not on my list of priorities. "Oh no that's okay! I am not inclined to dance this evening." Shoot! What a stupid thing to say! It's a annual ball for crying out loud! What else is there to do but dance?

And with that I was doomed. Of course I accepted. Refusing would not only be a social faux-pas-since I was neither engaged nor ill-but it would draw unnecessary attention. Sacrifice was the only option. I allowed him to take my hand and touch my lower back lightly. I could tell this would not be enjoyable for either of us, which, is a total understatement. I was ready to take measures the moment he did anything I saw as inappropriate. Though, honestly it was a stupid worry, considering our feelings for one another. Which was an almost utter and despicable loathing. Almost.

Then the room started to move. A quick, swirling pace that almost blurred out everything except you and your partner.

How wonderful for us. For the first few moments we just glared at each other. Before anything else we needed to establish that both of us were in just as much discomfort and disgust as the other. Once this was clearly apparent enough it became what everything between us was: a battle.

"So, you just couldn't wait to barge in and make a mess of things could you? At the very least you could have made sure to just bind my hands and feet while you were at it."

His hold became a bit firmer on my back. "If you don't behave I may just do that very thing. And I'll give you a good whipping while I'm at it too." I aggressively dug my nails deeper into his glove.

"I'm not a child! And I resent that you constantly treat me as if I am less of a person, less important than you!"

His eyes sparkled with mirth at my anger. He spun me away and then tugged me back. "But that is what you have lead everyone else to believe! The innocent little girl. Fresh young blood ready to join the ranks of the upper crust! And I will remind you..." Before I knew what what was happening he grabbed my arm and forced me backwards. I was defenceless in his arms with his face hovering over mine. "... You are." The cruel smirk was enough to drive me mad! But reacting was out of my ability. The dip was over and I was dragged back into the same swirling dance I was resenting so much.

"Well, it hardly matters. I know just who you are." An aloof smile seemed to mock me as he asked: "Oh? And what am I?"

I glazed at him blankly, before coldly answering him. "Heartless, wrapped up blindly in your own pride. Blinded by your social prejudice. You only care for your own personally warped world. You, are just like them." He obviously was quite barbed by that, and once again tried to abuse his role as the leader by twisting faster as to bend me to his power. But I'd had enough playing nice.

Unceremoniously I quickly with one smooth movement took over control of our dance. I wasn't weak. Strong as he was at this moment I simply turned his power against him. I drove him backward, faster and faster picking up the pace, complicating the steps as we went. In turn he had to put all his focus and strength into simply keeping on his feet. I was through being bullied at this ball. And finally I was actually starting to enjoy myself.

An icy air seemed to settle on me. I felt a chill go up my spine, like someone was walking on my grave. I slowed down slightly, allowing Erik to take over again. But I no longer cared. Something, someone, was watching me. It wasn't the friendly, or even the jealous looks coming from the normal guests attending the ball. It felt like a knife was running up and down my back, and it felt wrong. So extremely wrong.

"What? Has the cat finally lost her claws?" Oh with that again! I was done fighting with him for now.

I hissed through my clenched teeth. "Silence! That is no longer a concern of mine anymore." He looked puzzled by my statement. But then seemed to understand something important was happening. In a deep voice, audible enough only for me to hear, he said: "Where is the problem?" I didn't meet his gaze as he waited for my answer.

The icy daggers subsided, and for a moment I thought that the source had left. But then a new sensation came upon me. It was familiar, and I knew in an instant who it belonged to...

I turned, and saw through the crowd of dancers a masquerader. Such people could be found at almost any party. They would wander the streets and pass any place a celebration could be found. The servants would generally announce their presence to the master of the house, and he would allow them into the midst. Their purpose was usually just as another novelty to add to the festivities, and it certainly did not need to be a masque for their attire to be appropriate.

But I knew that gaze, which could pierce my soul and bare myself before them. They made me the slave and him the owner.

He appeared to be the same, yet something had changed about him. He looked, altered. As if for once he wasn't... Wasn't...

I broke the dance. I passed through the crowd like a ghost, leaving a baffled Erik behind me. They didn't slow me the slightest bit. Yet they didn't slow him either. I followed him as he weaved through the people, and as he quickly went up the small staircase off the side of the room, leading to a level overlooking the ballroom. I passed the couples leaning over the banister, ladies peering from behind the columns, men leaning against them. With my goal in mind, I had lost enough awareness that I had not seen the young man with whom I collided, sending me off my feet.

"Ah!" I started to fall, when his arms lashed out to wrap around my shoulders from the front, supporting me so I did not hit the ground. For a moment I simply didn't understand what had just happened; I was shocked. I felt myself lifted onto my feet correctly, still in the arms of my rescuer.

I still was dazed when I heard a distinctly smooth, accented voice speaking to me. "Señorita? Are you alright?" I looked up and lost what little breath I had managed to regain.

Dark, almost black eyes sparkled back at mine. Framed by long, shiny black locks. His face was finely chiseled and possessed aristocratic features. His skin was slightly darker than mine, and seemed to have a light, coppery glow to it. On his right ear, a little gold hoop hung. With a pointed ruby dangling like a charm from that.

His clothes were made up of a red and green paisley patterned doublet under a well fitted black leather over-vest, with golden buttons running up the left breast side. Finished off by black leather trousers and smart looking knee boots.

Indeed, I dare that any woman in my position would have reacted in much the same way. He was quite the Adonis! And as far as his well-shaped tall frame went, he wasn't hard on eyes either.

I regained my senses enough to relay my practicing character. "Yes, I believe so. Please forgive me for running into you. I almost knocked you over!" He laughed in an amused sort of way, then told me:

"No worries! No harm done. And I'm very glad that you are well. I would have been very distraught had you been hurt. Miss..." He looked at me expectantly, obviously looking for my name. I was reluctant to give it though. It was true that my name was no longer so much myself, so much as was now just an alibi. Since my only other self was now Black Blood, my name was just a label; a way to be identified by others. Revealing it was no longer like giving up my true identity. Or was it...

No. This was not the time to be weak about the past. I looked coquettishly at him and whispered just as mysteriously, "Rhiannon. That is my given name. If you desire my birth name you must first be properly introduced to me." He seemed to realize the game I was playing as a sly grin slid onto his face.

"But how may I accomplish such a feat? I do not believe you are here with your family, since I have never heard say of such beauty hailing from this area. In fact you are probably not even from this country! Spanish girls don't have your light looks. And French girls are too plain. You don't bear the look of a Grecian, and you appear too strong to be a weak Englishwoman. I declare you are not from this world at all! Only a goddess could be the possessor of the comeliness which graces itself before me now!"

A smile was spread wide across my face, he certainly knew how to charm them! He knelt on one knee and took my hand in his. "Allow me to give honor unto this goddess by showing my respect for her." He then gently lay a kiss onto my palm. I was a great master of my emotions. Throughout this whole exchange though I felt only within myself. I no longer could control my world, I was just as every other person. And... I liked it. I was normal. Just a girl enchanted by a handsome man.

"Indeed it is not so! I am simply a girl, and certainly no divinity." His playful eyes looked into mine again as he rose to his feet, still clasping my hand.

"Then you must be Italian! For sure a descendant of fair Juno, of lovely Venus herself!" Here he winked at me, as to give me a hint. I smiled triumphantly.

"While it is a good guess you are once more wrong. But I may make a fair guess that you yourself are from Italy?" He looked up and place a hand over his heart, along with my own hand. While his other arm flourished dramatically in the air.

"The gods must favor me! Such a lady of splendid beauty, and of a sharpened whit! Fortuna has smiled upon me again!" He lowered his arms and bent himself into a light bow. "It helps though when you are a child of Fortuna herself." What did he mean? Now I was curious. Who was he?

He seemed to guess my thoughts, "If it is your will I shall serve your will and not ask your name, and neither shall I encumber you with mine until we can be properly introduced." Ah, he was crafty! It wouldn't work on me though.

"Sir, then it shall be so. Find my friends and you may ask an introduction for me." I almost laughed and almost cried at the sad, puppy eyed look he gave me.

"My Lady is truly cruel. How shall I know these friends among this vast crowd? I beg of thee a hint, so I may at least make my search with a more directed mind."

For a moment I considered telling him of Erik and Nadir, but then I remembered. Erik, Nadir, the pact, and the masquerader. This was no time for fooling around. How had I let this happen?! I needed to go. Things like this were not meant for me.

I looked at him one last time. It would be a nice memory to look back on one day. At least I could have this moment when I thought about how fate had not granted me a "normal life". I quickly curtsied and hastily said, "The only thing I may grant is my best wishes for you. My time has fled, please enjoy the rest of your evening. It was a pleasure not making your acquaintance." I gave him one last smile before dashing in the direction I had last seen the masquerader go.

Once more I couldn't tell if the man I was leaving was saying or doing anything. My focus returned to me and I began tracking down my prey. It wasn't hard to do. The upper level was basically a big loop leading to a stair on the other side, and I could see he wasn't in the crowd below. He was still on this level, otherwise he'd left. But that theory was impossible, since Masqueraders would stay until a party ended. And if my hunch was correct, this would remain the case.

That left one last place. One the second level, in the very center stood a double door. What it lead to I didn't know, but at this point it didn't even matter. That was where I went.

I swiftly entered, careful that no one saw me trespassing. I wouldn't be missed very easily. It was a large ball, thus it would be a while before anyone I knew figured out I was gone. But I had wasted time with that man, and Erik had known something was wrong. Not that I cared. He could very well stay in the dark for as long as I cared for him to. I looked around the dark room. It looked like a parlour. It had a fireplace to the right, a wall-length bookcase to the left, and a large ebony clock at the back. Which was flanked by two windows overlooking a tiered garden. For some odd reason the fireplace was lit, and the shadows cast by the flames hid the corners in almost a complete darkness. I felt it almost immediately, but beyond being aware of it there was nothing I could do but wait.

The moments passed. And next I saw a movement in the shadows. The masquerader came forward. He was a black and white domino (**) with what appeared to be a sword on his side. He didn't attempt to come any closer, he simply watched me from he place by the clock, and I watched him from in front of the doors.

Then he lifted his head a bit, and I saw a flash of silver, and a glint of brown. He pulled away the mask and hat, and the final facade between us was removed. "Rhiannon." He said.

I stared him down. "...Jacob."

* * *

That's it!

(*) The music used here is "The First of Autumn" by Enya. A link to the video is on my page. My little sister made a video with horses using that song. :) She's been working on it for days and the song just popped into my head while writing this. She is such a smart girl, the video is definitely worth a look. (Hint, hint. Watch the video. Now.)

(**) A domino was a traditional costume from the 17th century, and consisted of a hat and a mask connected to a cape. I've included a link to one on my profile if you would like a better idea of what it is. :)


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